


Fade Away

by Redlance



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redlance/pseuds/Redlance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you could save someone you'd lost, would you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** : Warehouse 13, the world and the characters that inhabit it do not belong to me in any way, though sometimes I lie awake at night wishing that they did and what I'd do with them if they did. And then I write those thoughts down.
> 
>  **A/N** : So this idea came about after a round of late night conversation with myself and foxfire141. She basically threw plot elements at me, I screamed incoherantly at her, and then tried to string everything together. (Or, Redlance attempts to write another multichapter fic.) There will be spoilers for 5x1. And I will be ignoring some of the 'developments' in that episode. (One specifically.)

The clock had long since ticked by midnight by the time Myka crawled into bed, exhausted from the day's events and sore from her surgery. She eased between the blankets carefully, wincing a little as the stitches pulled at her skin, and let her eyelids fall shut. Time travel was draining, even before Paracelsus' tweaking had allowed for them to actually slip into a different period. When she'd been dropped into Rebecca's body the shift had been less extreme, she had felt the affects less as time wore on after the trip. But in the few hours between her and Pete's return from Warehouse 9, fatigue had settled in like led weights. Her limbs dragged and ached, and her head pounded as if she'd spent a week binge drinking.

 

Of course, she found it all thrilling. Having actually been pulled through time and across the centuries, not that she'd allowed herself a moment to appreciate it at the time. Her brain tried to process it all, even as she lay in bed, but the need for sleep was quick to catch her, and she slipped into unconscious alongside thoughts of time travel and the possibilities that Paracelsus had undoubtedly provided them with.

 

But sleep could not hold her and she awoke less than a handful of hours later, wide-eyed and breathless from a dream she couldn't remember but could not shake either. She threw the covers back from her with a heavy sigh and gently swung her legs over the side of her bed. Her footfalls were soft against the hardwood floor of her room as she crossed it and headed into the hallway, making her way to the bathroom. Once inside she flipped the lock and turned to look at herself in the mirror. The bags under her eyes had reduced considerably in the last week or so. Stress and worry having fallen away a little at the reassurance of the doctors and, yes, even Pete. Even though his weren't based on any kind of medical training, it had still been nice. Comforting. He'd been there for her every step of the way – even when she hadn't wanted him there – and she wasn't stubborn enough to ignore the fact that she had a lot to thank him for. Likely more than either of them could ever put into words. Although his near sacrifice of the Warehouse and subsequent endangering of the entire world had gone quite a way in explaining just how important Myka was to him.

 

“Dumbass.” She mumbled to her reflection, wry smile curving her lips. She loved him, but sometimes he was an idiot. Turning the faucet, she splashed a few handfuls of lukewarm water across her face and then dabbed at it with a towel. Sleep was not going to be something she found with any ease tonight, her mind was too wired from the events of the day. Too preoccupied with the what if's that they almost didn't manage to avoid. Paracelsus had almost won, had almost changed everything. Had erased their Warehouse and replaced it with a monstrosity. He had reminded her of Sykes in a way. Another man who also hated what the Warehouse was, but had instead wanted to obliterate it. She shuddered. She might not have lived through that time line, had never actually seen the destruction of the Warehouse, but somehow part of her remembered it. Could feel its memory hovering like a ghost. Could feel the phantom flames and the charge of electricity and see the look on H.G.'s face.

 

Myka blinked and pushed away from the sink.

 

Those were things she tried not to think about. Tried not to think of H.G. Wells at all. It hurt too much, the wound was still too raw and the emptiness still too fresh. And it was silly, maybe, but it felt like another betrayal. Another lie. Only on an entirely different scale.

 

Resigning herself to the fact that sleep wasn't going to be a likely option that night, Myka returned to her room to retrieve her house coat and tied it in place before descending the stairs. If nothing else, a cup of tea might help her relax a little. She'd always been a hardcore coffee drinker before, something about being in the Secret Service seemed to require it, but where coffee left her on high alert and wide awake, tea did the opposite. It slowed her down, relaxed her, often turned her contemplative. She had spent many a late night with Helena, talking over a steaming cup, but she didn't think about that as she reached for one now, flicking the kettle on with her thumb. She turned and rested her back against the counter, folding her arms across her chest as she stared through the doorway and into the dining room.

 

Leena had always made the best tea. She managed to get everything just right with such an apparent lack of effort, like she was made for making things perfect. Myka smiled, having no trouble believing that was exactly right, and then sighed. Nothing was the same with her gone.

 

Once the kettle had boiled and the tea had been steeped, Myka cradled the cup as she moved through the dining area and into the sitting room, intending to curl up on the couch with a book. Except something caught her eye as she passed the doorway that led into the front hallway, something so strange and out of place it made her stall mid-step.

 

Artie's Farnsworth was sitting on the table in the hallway. She frowned as she approached, wondering why on earth he'd have left it behind. It was one thing for him to forget his glasses, but not his Farnsworth. They'd initially all returned to the B and B to wind down, but he'd left just as Myka chose to retire to bed, claiming his own weariness was beginning to catch up to him. She set her mug down and picked up the device, thoughtfully turning it over in her hands. It wasn't like Artie at all, the thing was usually glued to him – right beside his Marry Poppins' bag – so for him to just leave it didn't make sense to Myka.

 

Unless he didn't want to be disturbed.

 

Her frown deepened.

 

And she wondered, as she slipped out of the housecoat and into her jacket, if this was how Pete felt when he got vibes.

 

* * *

 

She didn't exactly race to the Warehouse, but since there wasn't exactly a speed limit for their little slice of dirt heaven, she felt like sixty was a pretty acceptable speed to go. The tires chewed up gravel as she hit the breaks, sending a few pebbles spinning to ricochet off the metal structure of the Warehouse. She unclipped her seatbelt and carefully held it away from her stomach as she let it retract back into position and slipped out of the car.

 

The blinding white sterility of the umbilicus made her think about the alternate version of Warehouse 13 and she quickened her pace as she neared the door to Artie's office, impatiently waiting for it to unlock and allow her entry. When she finally made it inside her eyes went to all ends of the room but found no sign of the older man. Not that she'd expected to. Her gut was telling her that she already knew where he was. What he was doing. Why. She swallowed against a twinge of pain in her abdomen and pushed on, heading out onto the catwalk and descending the stairs to the Warehouse floor. It had taken her the better part of her first year to even come close to getting used to the layout. Figuring out what aisles started where and how everything was organised. Leena had tried to teach her on multiple occasions and Myka, who had always prided herself on being a good student, had grown increasingly frustrated when she couldn't seem to grasp it. But Leena had only smiled at her, told her it would all come in time, and she'd been right. So it didn't take Myka long to wind herself through the vast number of shelves and land herself at the place where she and H.G. had once saved the Warehouse.

 

Artie was there, fiddling with the time machine. Her eyes scanned the arrangement of artifacts that Paracelsus had set up as she approached, quiet so as not to disturb the man just yet, and she watched for a few heartbeats. And she'd known, even before arriving, but somehow seeing it made her heart ache all the more.

 

“Artie.” He stiffened, hand hovering near the lever, but he didn't immediately turn to her. She could practically see the cogs in his brain turning, working for some explanation or excuse. “What are you doing?” Finally settling on the truth. He spun, coat tails waving with the motion, and when his eyes found hers the pain inside her flared. He looked helpless and a little lost, and he opened his mouth to speak but no sound other than a heavy sigh would leave him. He lifted his hands and then dropped them, defeated, eyebrows drawn down.

 

“How can I not?” He finally asked, but she could tell by his expression that he wasn't really looking for an answer. She wouldn't be able to give him one even if he was. He jerked his head to the side, indicating the time machine, and she watched as the light reflected off the tears in his eyes. “How am I supposed to sit here, knowing I can bring her back, and not do anything about it?” He shook his head. “I'm not that strong, Myka.” She tried to smile at him, but it wavered at the edges and fell short.

 

“Artie...” She moved closer, rounding the sundial and only stopping when she was close enough to rest her hands on his shoulders. She didn't want to speak the words, didn't want to do anything other than let him go through with it, but he'd taught her well. “Just think for a second. The changes-”

 

“I don't care!” He boomed, cutting her off in aggravation and anger and instantly regretting his tone. But not the words. “I don't care.” Softer, more controlled, but he was slipping away and Myka didn't know how to hold onto him. “What would you do? If you knew you could save someone you love?” She knew the answer even before he'd finished the question. She couldn't argue with him, not about that. Because she knew if she were in his position, she would do exactly what he was doing.

 

“Anything.” She said, brow creased and eyes sad. And he knew.

 

“Thank you.” He whispered, backing away from her and turning back to the machine. She wondered what he was going to do. How far back he'd go, what he'd all change. She wouldn't remember of course, the shift in time lines would see to that, but she couldn't help but be curious. A thought occurred to her.

 

“The astrolabe,” she started, and the words felt dirty in her mouth. “Are you... will you reverse that?” He fiddled with a button on the machine and the silence that followed her question was deafening. In that moment, there was no way to stave off thoughts of H.G. Wells. Of what not turning back time that day would mean. Helena would be dead, Mrs Frederic would be lost to them and the Warehouse would be gone. Her heart pounded as she waited for his response.

 

“No.” And the held breath left her in an audible whoosh of air. He was shaking his head at her. “No, I won't go back that far. Only far enough to stop...” he paused, seeming to struggle, “myself. Nothing else.” And he paused again, turning to face her once more, wearing a sad smile. “I'm sorry for the things I'll say.” Unexpected emotion rushed at her as she remembered what he'd said to her and to Pete. How much it hard hurt even though she knew it wasn't really Artie. Not really what he thought or how he felt. But it had looked like the man who played a father in their lives and that was enough to make it hurt.

 

“That wasn't you.” But he shrugged as though he didn't believe her and finally reached for the lever again. The portal swelled to life before them and for a long few heartbeats they both simply stared at it. “Don't get lost.” She warned him and could almost hear his smile.

 

“I'll try my best.”

 

* * *

 

Myka blinked open heavy lids and grimaced against the sunlight streaming in from between the curtains. She lifted a hand to cover her eyes as she closed them again and let out a groan. She felt like her head was filled with rocks, only live ones, with teeth. After a few moment of forced stillness, she tried again and this time managed to keep them open. Time travelling was all well and good until the next morning. She let loose a sigh and curled her finger around a few strands of hair as she thought about the previous days events.

 

It was crazy. Paracelsus had done something amazing – for all the wrong reasons but still – when he'd combined the artifacts with the time machine. They'd been able to go back, to any date they chose, and change the course of history. And he had, though that had been for the worse, and lying awake Myka couldn't quite stop her thoughts from drifting to H.G. How she'd take the news, what she would do.

 

She sighed and shook her head, then instantly regretted the motion. Those thoughts were too heavy for first thing in the morning.

 

Once she'd left the warm embrace of her bed, Myka showered and dressed and descended the stairs to the lower level of the B and B. She could hear Claudia and Steve playfully arguing over something in the dining room and entered the sitting room in pursuit of them, as well as the smell of bacon.

 

“Dude, if you even think about taking the last piece I will stab you with the butter knife.” Claudia was glaring at him evenly and his narrowed eyes were something akin to concerned as he cocked his head.

 

“Why aren't I getting a lying vibe off you right now?” Claudia smiled, sly and dangerous.

 

“Because I'm not lying.” Myka chuckled and they turned their attention away from each other to look at her, Steve still wearing a startled deer expression. “Tell him, Myka.”

 

“She's not lying.” She obliged, dropping into a seat at the table and reaching over to pluck the last strip of bacon from the plate, mischief twinkling in her eyes. Claudia gaped at her.

 

“Oh no you did not.” Myka only nodded, humming in the affirmative and she chewed a little more obnoxiously than was the usual for her and more in line with Pete's table manners. Behind them they heard the front door swing open and closed and Claudia caught sight of Artie waddling in, not even bothering to stop and take off his coat and hat.

 

“Look, if there's going to be a girl fight can you let me know ahead of time so I can leave? They make me squeamish.” Claudia laughed at him, clapping a hand against his upper arm.

 

“If you were any gayer Jinksey, you'd be made of glitter.” She turned back to Myka as Artie jerked to a stop at the table, looking around with wide eyes. “Don't you think I’m letting you get away with this either.” She said, waving her fork at Myka. “There is going to be hell to pay when you least expect it.”

 

“Ladies, if I have to break up any fights there isn't going to be bacon in this house for a very long time.” Leena said with a smile and a flourish as she reached for the empty bacon plate and lifted it from the table. “Morning Artie.” She waved at him before disappearing back into the kitchen and Claudia watched as he kind of swayed on the spot.

 

“You okay there, weeble?” He didn't answer, didn't even look at her. She furrowed her brow. “Artie?” He started at the sound of his name, eyes swivelling in his head to stare at her.

 

“What? Yes. What?” He barked, all rough edges and brisk bluster.

 

“You looked like you were about to keel over.”

 

“I'm fine.” He barked, but it was softer than usual and entirely too weird for Claudia's morning. “Hurry up,” he gestured to the table, still littered with food, “there is actually work to be done.” And with that he was gone, just as quickly as he'd arrived.

 

“His cheeriness really makes my morning, you know?” Steve mused aloud, pulling smiles from the two women.

 

“He's a charmer.” Myka said, reaching for the eggs.

 

“Who is?” Pete's question came under the heavy blanket of a yawn and was barely discernible. So much so in fact that she felt the eyes of her team mates fall on her as they waited for her to translate.

 

“Artie.” She explained, buttering a slice of toast with Claudia's would-be weapon of choice. “He's like a bear with a hangover.” Pete groaned as he dropped into the chair beside Myka and let his head fall into his hands.

 

“Please don't use that word. I haven't felt this ' **that** ' in a **long** time.”

 

“Aww,” Claudia pouted from across the table. “Does Petey have a wittle time travel hangover?” He rubbed at his face.

 

“What did I **just** say?” Suddenly, his hands fell away. “Do I smell bacon?”

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Artie found work for each and every one of them, informing them of their task for the day the second they entered the office. His mood hadn't changed much since his appearance at breakfast, he still barked his orders but it was with a detached kind of gruffness that made them all eye one another curiously, but no one said anything to him.

 

Claudia was left 'chained to the computer like a trained monkey' - her words - while Steve was banished to the far corner of the Christmas aisle to take care of a few artifacts that had been 'acting up'.

 

"Just don't accidentally touch any brushes." Pete had warned him, a serious edge to his voice that had Myka and Claudia side-eyeing him with raised eyebrows. He refused to acknowledge them, instead turning his attention to Trailer who he petted with over-exuberant enthusiasm before the dog ran off after Steve.

 

Myka was sent to do inventory in the sports section and Pete had begged and whined until Artie agreed to let him go with her.

 

"Oh ho ho." Pete said from somewhere behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to find him playing with the inventory screen for one of the artifacts. "Michael Jordan's Sneakers!"

 

"Pete." She warned, and he could practically see the mental finger wagging she was giving him. He looked at her, eyes wide and pleading.

 

"Mykes! They let you see cartoon characters!" She glared at him.

 

"No."

 

"But-"

 

"No." He pouted, an actual grown-man pout, and stomped his foot like a five year old. She twisted her lips, pursing them in an attempt to stop the threatening smile. If she encouraged him, it would only make him worse. Grudgingly, he moved away from the shelf in a conscious attempt to control the temptation.

 

"My head still hurts. And are we ever going to talk about the fact that the neutraliser is probably giant purple bird poo?" He groaned a moment later and she allowed herself to smile at that. "This time travelling crap can really mess with you." She hummed her agreement, scribbling something down on the inventory sheet she was holding. She didn't feel near as bad as he seemed to, though Pete had a habit of turning a bout of sniffles into the bubonic plague, but she was feeling effects similar to the last time they'd jumped into the past.

 

Even though they'd been in different bodies then, she'd felt the same bone-deep strangeness that she felt now. As if she were adjusting to being back in her own body or, in this case, her own time. She'd spoken about it with H.G. the evening after that first adventure and the other woman had revealed that she had felt similar after her own travels.

 

She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realise silence had fallen until Pete spoke again.

 

"I know what you're thinking." She looked up from her clipboard and turned her head to look at him. He was wearing a sad smile, but it was one that was weighted with understanding. Knowing. "Sam, right?" The name tugged violently at Myka's heart. And it was startling at times, how far they'd come from arguing over protocols and name pronunciation. She flashed him a weak smile in return, but didn't quite trust her voice enough for words. He walked over to her, hands buried in the pockets of his Puscifer jacket. "Figured with everything it had probably crossed your mind." She let out a heavy sigh and set the clipboard down on the crate she was standing beside.

 

"Kinda hard not to think about it." He hummed aloud, nodding, and something in the motion sent off a spark in her brain. She instantly berated herself. "Your dad?" His nod continued through the question, slightly more emphatic towards the end of it. She sighed again and rubbed at the back of her neck with a hand. "Claud's probably thinking about her parents."

 

"Jinksey's sister." They'd all lost people. People who could now, in theory, be saved. "I wonder how much would be different?" She looked at him, saw a little boy reflected in a grown man's eyes, and felt his pain. Time paradoxes were messy things and they'd all heard about what could happen if you stepped on a butterfly in the past. You could land back in the present to find out cryogenic freezing had been perfected and Hitler was King of the world. There was a lot to go wrong. Still, the temptation was there, almost overwhelming.

 

"I don't know." She murmured, a small frown creasing her brow. If Sam hadn't been killed, would she have ever been called to the Warehouse? Artie always said that the people who were meant to be there would end up there regardless, but Myka wasn't so sure. She and Sam might have been married by now, maybe thinking about kids. She had thought they'd be together for the rest of their lives.

 

"I'd probably still be here." Pete said, as if reading her mind. "I wonder what my dad would say about me and mom both being involved with the Warehouse." He smiled as he spoke, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. They were quiet for a few moments then and Myka worried her lower lip as she thoughts. Pete watched her silently, trying to gauge her expression.

 

"I was thinking, last night..." she rolled her eyes and let out a huff of mirthless laughter, "was the first thing I thought of when we figured out what Paracelsus was doing actually." He stayed silent, waiting for her to find her words. "H.G." She didn't need to say any more and he really should have been expecting it. Still, it knocked the wind out of him a little. The implications and possibilities that the woman's name carried.

 

"Oh." He finally said through a loud exhale. "Wow." She flashed him a quick, uncertain curve of her lips.

 

"Yeah." And he wasn't sure what to say after that. Wasn't sure what there was to say. He couldn't begin to imagine what the inventor's reaction to this might be. Myka had always known her best.

 

"You think we should tell her." And it wasn't a question, though he was sure Myka would already know the answer if it had been.

 

"I don't know." Even if she didn't know that herself. "How can we not?"

 

* * *

 

She wasn't sure how she'd ended up here, uncertain of the exact route and steps she had taken, but she knew why. What had started out as vague thoughts that she had tried to keep at bay for most of the day had turned too loud for her to keep ignoring. Especially after her conversation with Pete.

 

She approached the main console of the time machine and reached out to run gloved fingers over its front with something akin to reverence. H.G. had laboured for years to perfect time travel, had put her blood, sweat and tears into the machine's construction. But she'd never managed to do what Paracelsus had in a single afternoon. And maybe he'd had a few more years to think on the possibilities. Maybe his mind was that much more twisted. She didn't think either of those things would make it any easier for the woman to accept.

 

She knew H.G. would feel cheated, defeated. She knew that the omnipresent hollowness inside of the inventor would flare to life and try to swallow her, again. And part of Myka didn't want to tell her, in case it pulled her back into darkness.

 

She ran her hand over the lever and remembered the last time she'd spoken to H.G. about Christina. The last real conversation they'd had about her. After Yellowstone, when the other woman had been little more than a hologram and yet had somehow managed to become more to Myka than she herself had realised. A quiet moment hidden in the aisles of the Warehouse, away from other prying eyes and ears. Away from any Regent hands that might take the sphere away from her before she was ready.

 

Myka Bering, liberator of magical projector balls and rebel rule-bender, but only where H.G. Wells was concerned.

 

Of course, she'd already made her decision. It was no longer a case of 'if' she'd tell H.G. about these new developments, but rather 'how' and 'when'. She moved to the sun dial and let her eyes roam its surface. The idea of keeping this from the woman opened up a black hole inside Myka that was so vast and filled with guilt she could barely breathe. It was like a vacuum. It couldn't be done.

 

Her gaze wandered over the rest of the artifacts that Paracelsus had assembled and she let out a sigh before turning and disappearing into the aisles.

 

* * *

 

 

Artie reached over to thumb the power button on the computer monitor and watched as the screen flickered to black. The day had been long and arduous for him; he had thought some time alone with Claudia might have mend their fractured relationship, give them the opportunity to talk. For him to explain. But his surrogate daughter had been less than cooperative when he had attempted conversation, instead choosing to focus her attentions on snide remarks and freezing him out. Every time he tried to explain, again, why he had kept Claire from her he had been met with either stony silence or a sharp tongue. And it was hard to apologise when he believed he had done the right thing. Claudia didn't know, couldn't understand how dangerous her sister was, and he couldn't make her see sense if she wouldn't listen to him.

 

He straightened and ran a palm over the tight curls of his hair, heaving a sigh. They'd work through this, they'd find a way. They always did.

 

His eyes scanned the office, slow and methodical, as though he was forgetting something but couldn't quite remember what. And he almost jumped out of his skin when his gaze caught sight of a figure standing in the doorway that lead out onto the balcony. His hand dropped from his head to rest against his chest and he drew in a ragged breath after letting out a rather inelegant yelp of surprise.

 

“Sorry.” Myka said, lips turning up in a small smile. He shot her a glare, but it lacked any serious malice, and finally dropped his hand to his side.

 

“I thought you left with everyone else.” The rest of the Warehouse team had retired to the bed and breakfast over and hour ago, the promise of home made cookies drawing them back in a hurry that had very nearly turned into a stampede.

 

“Yeah,” She looked down as she entered the office, almost watching her feet as she walked and only looking up again when she was in front of Artie. “I was um...” The sleeves of her shirt were too long and she twisted her fingers beneath the cover of them as she tilted her head to one side, rolling her tongue over her lower lip. “I was looking at the time machine.” Artie stilled and stared at her. Waiting. “I think we should tell H.G.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Artie stared at Myka, silent, for a long moment. Long enough that Myka began to question whether or not he'd heard her, despite knowing that he had. She shifted on the spot, uncomfortable with the quiet and his unfaltering gaze, and when she could finally take it no longer she spoke again.

 

"Artie." Just loud enough to bring him back from wherever he'd gone. He blinked at her a few times in rapid succession and his mouth opened and closed twice before he could push any words out.

 

"I know that..." He turned away from her slightly, shuffling a stack of papers that lay on the desk beside the monitor into a tidy pile before picking them up. "I know that you want to help Myka, but-"

 

"She needs to know about this, Artie." And the determination in her voice pulled his attention back to her. Her face was set, expression shadowed and resolute. "This isn't about helping. This is about doing what's right. If she knew what Paracelsus was able to accomplish-"

 

"Then what?" She bristled at the barked interruption, folding her arms across her chest but standing her ground. "We let her go gallivanting off back to the eighteen hundreds to alter the course of history?"

 

"It's the right thing to do." Truth be told, he'd always admired her stubbornness. Right from the moment she'd set foot in South Dakota. He'd admired the way she'd climbed a mountain of manure and how she'd made an impulsive wish using a kettle even before she'd believed that such things were possible. He had admired the things she had done to escape the Warehouse and the things she'd done to stay. And really, he should have expected this. Not that it would have made it any easier.

 

"It's not as simple as right and wrong." He gestured helplessly with one hand before running the palm over his hair again and she frowned at him. A gentle creasing of her brow that pulled at him.

 

"What would you do?" She asked, tone low and close to broken. "If you could save someone you love?" He felt his heart seize, something like a mix of dread and sorrow being pulled through it like razor wire. He looked at her through the eyes of a father then and saw a daughter in pain. Unable to stop herself from wanting something that went against everything she'd learned and he knew how difficult that was. To want something so desperately you didn't care about anything else.

 

And it wouldn't be an easy decision. There were a lot of things to consider. But just like everything else, they'd figure it out together.

 

* * *

 

Myka was the first one down to the dining room the next morning, another night of fitful sleep making an early riser out of her. She had showered and dressed almost in time to meet the sun as it rose over the back garden of the bed and breakfast, and by the time she made it downstairs Leena hadn't even begun to get things ready for breakfast. The woman glanced over her shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps and she met hazel eyes with a small measure of surprise.

 

"You're up early." She commented with a smile and Myka returned it with a tentative one of her own, too caught up in the thoughts that had smothered both her sleeping and waking hours for anything more than that. "Trouble sleeping?" Myka twisted her head to the side with a nod, stretching out a kink in her neck and not paying attention as Leena gave her a quick once over. There was a pause of silence as Myka sat down at the small circular kitchen table. "You're thinking about H.G." She said, rather abruptly and entirely out of left field in Myka's opinion, and the agent stared at her wide eyed for a heartbeat.

 

"How did you know?" Leena's smile was gentle as she turned back to the boiling kettle and opened up the cupboard above it, pulling down two mugs and gesturing towards Myka with one of them. She nodded and Leena set them on the counter.

 

"Your aura." She said simply, dropping a teabag into each cup. "The colour changes whenever you think about her." The knowledge unsettled Myka a little, that she could be so transparent to someone. "I don't mean to pry." Leena's tone was apologetic and Myka realised that her silence was likely being taken the wrong way.

 

"No, I know." She assured the other woman, and she did. It wasn't something Leena could turn off. No more than Steve could shut down his internal lie detector or Pete could stop his vibes. She just read you without looking. "What colour is it usually?" She asked. Leena seemed to ponder over the question as she poured water into the cups.

 

"It's kind of difficult to put into words." She said after a moment, reaching into one of the draws and retrieving a spoon. "There's usually a mix that's dependant on the person and it makes a colour that isn't really..." she made a face, "named." Myka smiled at the explanation. "But if I had to give one to yours, usually it's turquoise. Mostly." She took out the teabags and dropped them into the garbage can before lifting a mug in each hand and turning to the table. She set one down in front of Myka and took the seat across from her with her own.

 

"Thanks." Myka said, cradling the cup and rubbing her thumb back and forth over the smooth porcelain of the handle. Leena waited. "How does it change?" She asked after a moment of quiet and Leena sipped her tea thoughtfully before speaking.

 

"It becomes..." she paused, searching for the right word to describe what she saw, "streaked. With purples and gold. The foundation of the colour changes almost completely." Myka wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but a question rose unbidden. One that she knew would nag at her until she gave it voice.

 

"What colour was H.G.'s? When she was here?" Leena's eyes met hers, unflinching if not a tad apologetic. As though she wished Myka hadn't asked.

 

"Mostly purple." And for a second, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. "Sometimes there would be heavy spots of red and black. Unless she was with you. Then it was streaked with turquoise." And Myka couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Could hardly form thoughts. For that moment, she ceased to exist. And she still didn't know what it meant, but she had an idea. And beneath everything else, it hurt. "I'm sorry." Leena frowned at her and the regret in the expression jerked Myka back into existence. "Should I not have-"

 

"No." She interrupted, lifting a white-knuckled hand from her mug to wave it dismissively. "No, it's fine. I asked." Her smile shot for reassuring but fell short, something that did not go unnoticed, and Myka didn't know what else to say. So she reached across the table to give the other woman's hand a squeeze. And Leena's smile returned, though it was a little less bright.

 

They sat in contemplative silence for a few minutes after that, a host of questions being birthed only to find a swift and silent death in the quiet of the kitchen. Leena finished the last of her tea and stood.

 

"I guess breakfast isn't going to make itself." Myka smiled up at her, eyebrow cocked.

 

"Pretty sure Pete thinks it does." Leena gave a laugh as she turned away, placing the cup into the dishwasher and starting on the food. "I bet there's an artifact for that. Would save you a lot of trouble." Leena hummed thoughtfully.

 

"But it would probably make anyone who eats the food turn into Henry the Eighth. We'd end up trying to take each others heads off." Myka hiccuped a chuckle around a mouthful of liquid and then nodded her agreement.

 

She remained in the kitchen a little while longer, making small talk with Leena as she helped prepare breakfast, until she heard the main door to the bed and breakfast click open and closed. She made her apologies for not helping more as she edged towards the door and Leena shooed her away, surprisingly non-threatening even with a knife in her hand.

 

As she'd suspected, it was Artie. Myka approached him with a sort of slow apprehension, hanging back by the dining room table and waiting for him to notice her. She waited as he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it against the wall, then turned and entered the sitting room. When his eyes found hers an expression that she couldn't quite describe flashed across his face. But it only lasted an instant. His gaze dropped as he walked over, swinging his briefcase up and onto the table. Myka waited. She waited until she was sure he wasn't going to speak unless she asked him to.

 

"Artie?" He paused as he was popping the clips, then resumed before looking at her again. "Did you-"

 

"I talked to them." He said, his tone making Myka's stomach churn violently. Artie sighed, heavy and harsh, and turned to face her. "There's a lot to consider, Myka." Myka felt her hackles rise, as though the action were a tangible thing a person could touch.

 

"Like what?" She asked, an edge of ire to her voice that made Artie's eyes flutter closed as he readied himself for what was coming. "Like how we could help H.G. save the life of her daughter? How we could help her mend herself in the process?"

 

"And what about all she's done to help the Warehouse?" He asked, temper straining beneath his tenuous control. "She's helped saved thousands of lives, Myka. The Regents, they can't justify risking that to save the life of one person."

 

"A child, Artie. **Her** child.” She argued, belligerent and certain, as though she'd thought through every possible argument he might throw at her. “There are things we can do to make sure we still save all of those people, I know it." She levelled her gaze at him then, jaw set and head high. "What if it was Claudia?" He glared at her.

 

"Myka-"

 

"Or Vanessa?" His jaw clamped closed with an audible click. "I know you, Artie." She said, voice more gentle now. "You'd do anything to save them." He let out a deep breath and reached into his briefcase. His fingers closed around an envelope and he lifted it out.

 

"I know." And he did, couldn't argue with her on that. "Which is why," he tossed the envelope onto the table and it slid until it hit the edge of the chair she was standing beside, "I brought you this." She lifted it from where it lay and thumbed open the lip, sliding out the contents.

 

"A plane ticket." She glanced up at him. "To Wisconsin." He nodded. They stared at one another for a handful of heartbeats, before she strode forward and enveloped the short man in a hug. "Thank you." He awkwardly patted her back and waited for her to pull away.

 

"You leave at four." She eased back and released him, clutching the ticket like a lifeline. Her lips trembled as she smiled and the glassy quality to her gaze made him uneasy, so he turned from her and busied himself with arranging the non-existent mess in his briefcase. He didn't look up again until he felt a hand on his forearm, stilling his pointless motions.

 

"Thank you." Myka repeated, and the sincerity in her voice almost undid him.

 

* * *

 

When she packed for a mission, Myka was always sure she was prepared. Even if it was intended to be a quick and simple snag and bag, she always packed as though it might potentially turn into an overnight excursion. Better safe than sorry; one of the lessons her father had instilled in her that still remained. She folded an extra shirt and set it atop the dress pants she'd placed in the suitcase just as there was a knock at the door.

 

"Come in." She turned to look over her shoulder as it opened and Pete stuck his head around the side of it.

 

"Ready to go?" He had offered to drive her to the airport so she wouldn't have to leave the vehicle they usually used parked at a lot until she returned and she glanced down at the contents of the suitcase before nodding and zipping it closed.

 

"I think I have everything." She could hear him shuffling behind her, heard the dull thud of his form hitting the wall as he dropped to lean against it.

 

"But are you ready?" She sighed and turned around, sitting beside the case on the edge of her bed and levelling him with a look. He flashed her a smile that let her know he wasn't going to just let this go.

 

"No." She said honestly, letting the vowel linger on the breath she blew out. Her hand went to her hair and she pushed it back out of her face. "I have... **No** idea what I'm going to say to her, Pete." He kicked the toe of his sneaker against the hardwood floor, looking a bit like an unsure schoolboy with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

 

"Hey H.G., guess what? Physical time travel, not so impossible anymore." He offered with an attempt at a wry smile but he couldn't quite pull it off. He shrugged an apology. "Guess that's not really your style."

 

"Not so much." They lapsed into companionable silence for a little while then, Myka looking for her courage and Pete patiently waiting for her to find it. When it finally appeared as though she had and she stood, he moved forward and grabbed her case from the bed before she could. She frowned at him and he gave another shrug, muttering something about how she shouldn't be lifting things and she didn't have the energy to fight him on it.

 

The majority of the car ride to the airport was quiet, their silence broken only by foreign radio voices and the sound of Pete occasionally strumming his thumbs against the steering wheel in time to whatever song was playing.

 

"Am I being selfish?" She asked suddenly and he took his eyes off the road only long enough to glance over at her.

 

"What are you talking about?" She didn't look at him, remained staring out of the window as she spoke.

 

"Doing what I'm doing. Flying out there to drag her back into Warehouse business after she's tried so hard to escape it." He flicked his indicator and swiftly shifted lanes, following the signs for the airport without consciously paying attention.

 

"It's not like you're doing it just to bring her back into the fold, Mykes. She needs to know about this, you said it yourself." She absently chewed on her lower lip as she considered his words.

 

"I know." She said, but she didn't sound sure. "But she said she was happy. What if I tell her, get her hopes up, and then something happens that shatters everything?" He sighed.

 

"It's a risk, yeah." He admitted and saw her wince in his periphery. Not the answer she was looking for, but he'd always tried to be honest with her and she knew that. "But I think it's one that's worth taking. If she found out that the possibility had been there at one point and you hadn't said anything to her, it'd be like-"

 

"A betrayal." She finished for him, giving a single, slow nod of her head. "Yeah." And there had been enough betrayal in their relationship already. Myka didn't want to associate that word with H.G. Wells ever again, not after retiring it so long ago. She wouldn't dredge it up again, despite the risks.

 

Maybe it was natural to have doubts, but it wasn't something Myka was used to. She was always so sure of everything before she did it. It was fitting, she supposed.

 

H.G. had been throwing a wrench in her works since day one.

 

* * *

 

Even after his many, many years working in and around the Warehouse, Artie still didn't know **exactly** where everything was. He knew the general gist of it all, where things were supposed to be. The problem was that they didn't always stay there. There were a number of artifacts housed on the shelves that seemed to relish moving things from one place to another, a lot of them having been found during suspected poltergeist investigations, and they acted up without any kind of warning. And since nutralizer maintenance only went so far, there was no way to properly secure such artifacts and he was forced to let them get on with it, leaving the hunting down of it for later.

 

So it was not entirely out of the ordinary for Claudia to find the man prowling the aisles on his steampunk segway, muttering to himself about wayward artifacts and looking a bit like a homeless man. Only with a segway.

 

"What did you lose now?" She said, abruptly appearing around the corner of an aisle and forcing him to stop. He jerked to a halt and closed his eyes for a moment before glaring at her.

 

" **Don't** do that." He snapped. "You're going to give me a heart attack. One day you're going to kill me." She threw him a mock pout.

 

"Please, you're like a cockroach. The apocalypse could ravage the world and you'd still be here." He furrowed his wiry eyebrows at her.

 

"Thank you for that touching comparison." He swung a little on the segway, turning to face the aisle he'd stopped in front of and beginning to scour the shelves. "And I didn't lose anything. Things keep walking off." Claudia hummed and moved over to the shelf he was looking at. She spent a few seconds aimlessly searching and he eyed her in his periphery.

 

"So-"

 

"And there it is." He interrupted, a small, knowing smile turning his lips. She narrowed her eyes at him but continued on.

 

"Do you think H.G. will do it?" He blew out a breath and gave a half shrug of his shoulders.

 

"I don't know if the Regents will even allow it." Claudia's expression shifted, mild disbelief shadowing her features.

 

"Will that really make a difference?" It wasn't as though Artie had never defied them before. He turned the segway again so that he was facing her and she had to jerk her feet out of the way of his wheels. He didn't seem to notice.

 

"I've already gone against their wishes just by sending Myka to see her." He admitted, rubbing the palm of his hand against his cheek. "The ramifications could be extensive. For all of us." She didn't seem overly bothered by his warning even after the last bit that he'd tacked on with a blunt pointedness.

 

"We've all done things we shouldn't have to save people we love." She said. "It's like... The greater good or something."

 

"Yes, well, there's a lot more to consider here than the usual. We've saved thousands, maybe millions of peoples lives with H.G.'s help. If the time line is altered and she isn't here to help with those things..." He trailed off, not seeing a need to finish. Claudia fiddled with a badge of her jacket for a few moments, thinking.

 

"They'll figure it out." She glanced up to find his eyes on her, gaze questioning. "That's kind of what they do, right? They figure things out together."

 

She was right, of course. Even back before he'd trusted H.G. about as far as he could throw her he had seen it. The way she and Myka worked together. Like two pieces of a machine that had finally come together to work fluidly and flawlessly. He'd hated it of course, even more so when his gut instinct had been proven right, but it was there nonetheless. Irrefutably.

 

And so maybe Claudia was right. Maybe they would figure it out together.

 

He was only a little surprised to realise that he hoped they would.

 

* * *

 

Myka wasn't scared of flying, she had never been the kind of person to hold the armrests in a white-knuckled grip during take off, but it wasn't her idea of fun. When they flew together she always let Pete take the window seat, not just because he was an overgrown child and whined if he didn't get it, but because she didn't get any kind of enjoyment from looking down at the earth from thousands of feet above its surface. It unnerved her, being so far off solid ground, and she spent most flights counting down the minutes until touch down. During this particular flight she found herself wondering, not for the first time, if there was an artifact that allowed for teleportation over vast distances, but the numerous side effects that she conjured up inevitably talked her out of any hypothetical usage of such a thing. But she was impatient, despite the hours she could spend (and had spent) hidden away on a steak out, and the idea still appealed to that side of her.

 

As far as flights went though the one to Wisconsin didn't drag on as long as she'd felt others had in the past and there was no turbulence to speak of. So when she departed the plane and began to navigate her way down to baggage claim, the only lingering nerves she felt were down to what she was here to do and who she was here to see.

 

She joined the small throng of people at the carousel and waited for the conveyor belt to start moving, digging in her pocket for her phone and switching it back on. After a minute or so she was greeting with a number of notification sounds and she thumbed the touch screen, bringing the phone to life. They were all text messages; three from Pete, one from Claudia and another, surprisingly, from Artie. She hadn't known he even knew what texting was, let alone how to navigate a phone long enough to punch one out.

 

“ _stop panicking"_ , _"you're panicking, i can feel it"_ , _"it'll be fine mykes"_.

 

She smiled as Pete's messages and thumbed her way into the screen for Claudia's.

 

_"Tell HG I say hi!"_

 

They'd been close, once upon a time. When things were simultaneously more easy and somehow harder. Different. Artie's message almost made her laugh out loud, but she managed to hide it under the sound of the conveyor belt whirring to life.

 

_"if she asks, my shoulder is fine."_

 

Who knew he had a sense of humour?

 

She spotted her suitcase sliding down the shoot after about fifteen minutes of waiting and hauled it off the carousel when it made its way around to her, then she headed outside to hail a cab. One swung in to stop beside the curb at her first wave and she let the driver take her bag and haul it into the trunk as she climbed into the back. She gave him the address that she'd memorised during their first excursion and then they were off.

 

* * *

 

Wisconsin was pretty. Myka had decided that the first time she had visited, years before, and the area in which H.G. lived was especially so. The kind of picturesque suburbs that Hollywood movies about soccer moms had made popular. She could quite easily imagine a person wanting to settle down here, start a family, maybe have a dog or two. Nice gardens with meticulously kept flower beds, lawns that get mowed every Sunday and annual street-wide bake sales.

 

H.G. wasn't so easily slotted into the idyllic tranquillity of it all. At least, it wasn't easy for Myka to picture. Even now, after having months to adjust to the idea, it still didn't sit well. Still felt wrong.

 

But that wasn't why she was here and she'd promised herself that she wouldn't touch that particular subject after last time.

 

The cab made its last turn onto a familiar street and Myka felt her heart rate speed up. For all the thinking she had done over this, she hadn't considered what her initial plan of action would be. What she would say to H.G. when the woman opened the door, if she was even home.

 

A jolt of something like fear ran through her. Because what if she wasn't home? What if Nate was? What if they'd gone away for the weekend together and Myka was stuck waiting around in a hotel room she would have to rent until they got home? The list could have gone on forever and it might have, had the cab not pulled up next to the house that Myka still had trouble associating with H.G. and put the car into park.

 

"Well, here we are." He said, flashing a smile at her in the rear view mirror and getting out to grab her suitcase out of the trunk. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves and stepped out of the car. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a wallet, liberating a few bills and handing him enough for the trip and a little extra for his trouble. He tipped the flat cap he was wearing and slid back into the driver's seat. She watched as he drove away and then turned to face the house.

 

"Here I am." She sighed to herself and then popped the extending handle on the suitcase, before making her way up along the driveway.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Myka stopped in front of the door and set the suitcase on all four wheels. She reached up to fiddle with her curls and then spent far longer than was necessary just watching the wooden surface as though waiting for the thing to provide her with all the answers to her mental questions. It didn't of course and she knew eventually she'd have to move, do something other than simply stand there. She couldn't quite get her body to cooperate however and just convincing her brain to lift her arm and knock was a feat in and of itself. 

She wasn't sure where exactly the trepidation was stemming from; if it was simply seeing the other woman after so long or the foreboding thought of actually having to explain everything to her. They'd talked about coffee and seeing each other again, but they hadn't laid eyes on one another since Myka's last impromptu visit. They had spoken twice on the phone, but things had been strange and strained across the distance and Myka hadn't enjoyed the feeling. It wasn't the same. Nothing was. 

A thing that had never been more evident than it was at that moment, as Myka stared at the door and finally lifted her hand. 

She knocked before she could talk herself out of it and felt her heart begin to hammer as she waited. She still had no idea what she was going to say, how she was even going to begin, and they'd never been much for actually talking. So many of the moments that Myka remembered, the ones she didn't allow herself to think about yet inevitably gravitated towards whenever she forgot to stop herself, had been largely silent. Things passing between them by way of lingering gazes and body language that was impossibly familiar. But when they did talk, their words were always charged. With what, Myka hadn't been able to name for the longest time. It had made things hurt, made things effortless and easy, made everything **more**. 

And then it was gone, along with the woman herself, and the absence had left Myka feeling hollow in a way that differed from all the times she'd felt the feeling before. 

The sound of muffled footsteps made Myka swallow reflexively and shift on the spot, then the door was being pulled open. 

"Oh." Myka glanced down. "I know you." Adelaide was peering up at her from between a gap in the door that was just wide enough for her to stand in. The girl smiled. "You're the friend from college!" Myka's own smile was tremulous but she managed to keep it in place. 

"That's right." She said, then because she thought she ought to give a formally greeting, "Hi again." Adelaide offered a happy wave. "Is your..." Myka swallowed again, brow creasing ever so slightly as she struggled over what to call the woman she was looking for. "Is she home?" The girl turned her head to look over her shoulder and called out. Myka felt her body stiffen and her jaw clench against her will, her fingers fisted and flexed at her sides as she waited. 

"Who is it, darling?" The disembodied voice floated to her along the hall to drop something like lead into the pit of her stomach and then Adelaide was moving aside.

And there she was.

"Myka." She looked as shocked as Myka inexplicably felt at seeing her. Loose fitting shirt and slacks, dark hair left down to lay across her shoulders; just like she remembered.

"Hey, Helena." It was an awkward greeting, complete with an equally awkward half-wave that Myka instantly felt foolish for giving. She flashed a self conscious smile and then gripped the handle of the suitcase to give one of them something to do. 

There was a moment that stretched too long in which Helena stared at Myka with clear bemusement, completely taken aback by her sudden appearance, but then Adelaide returned to Myka's field of view to tug at Helena's shirt.

"Aren't you going to invite her in?" She asked in a stage whisper and Helena's expression suddenly shifted, a too-wide smile stretching her lips.

"Of course!" She said, as though the idea had completely escaped her. "Do come in." And she stepped back, opening the door wide and allowing Myka into the hallway. 

The house was just as she remembered, with perhaps a few more photographs of Helena and her new family lining the walls, and as Myka passed by them on her way to the living room she felt herself growing increasingly more nervous. 

"I'll put the kettle on." She told Myka. "Make yourself comfortable." She took a seat on the same chair she'd used during her last visit and smiled at Adelaide as the girl sat down across from her. 

"Are you here about a curiosity?" Myka blinked at her, surprised.

"Oh, um," she paused, floundering for something to say. "No. Not this time." 

"Just a visit then?" Myka swallowed. She hadn't anticipated being grilled this early on and by someone so small. She nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. "That's nice. Helena talks about you a lot." Myka's hands clenched at her kneecaps.

"Does she?" Adelaide hummed in the affirmative. 

"She sometimes tells me stories about the adventures you went on together, now that we're allowed to know who she really is." Adelaide rolled her eyes in a self-reprimanding manner, as if she'd had to correct herself in the same way too many times before. "Who she was." 

And Myka had to remind herself again that this H.G. wasn't the same as the one she'd gotten to know during her time at Warehouse 13. Nor was she the same as the one she'd gotten to know as a holographic projection. Myka wasn't sure how to talk to this version of the woman and while Myka had dodged bullets and protected the President himself, that thought made her palms sweat in a way that was foreign to her despite her vast experience.

"Adelaide." Helena was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, eyes intent on the two of them. "I do believe you have homework that needs to be done before your kempo lessons." The girl ducked her head sheepishly and nodded, bidding Myka a goodbye and disappearing into the hallway. Myka heard feet on the stairs and then the sound of a door opening and closing, and then they were alone. 

She could feel Helena watching her and it took Myka a few seconds before she felt herself ready to look her way, afraid the other woman would somehow preemptively sense why she was here and that conversation would start before she was ready. 

"Hey." Myka said and Helena's lips curved into a teasing smirk, dark eyes watching her suspiciously. 

"Yes you said that already." The sound of the kettle boiling gave Myka another welcome reprieve as the other woman went to prepare, she assumed, tea for them. She couldn't stop her mind from racing, from going over everything she could potentially say to Helena again and again, and it left her none the wiser as to how exactly she was going to explain it all. She was so beside herself by the time Helena returned that she had to clench her jaw against the urge to blurt everything out and get it over with. H.G. deposited a tray carrying two cups and a plate of biscuits on the table between the couch and where Myka was sitting. 

"Thanks." She said as Helena slid one of the cups towards her with a finger. 

"My pleasure." Helena took a seat on the couch and stirred a cube of sugar into her tea. "I must say, it's quite a surprise to have you sitting in my living room." 

"Yeah," Myka breathed, an apology already forming on her lips, "I'm sorry. I should have called or-" Helena waved a hand dismissively.

"Nonsense." She lifted the cup by the handle and took a sip. "You're always welcome here." Myka covered her discomfort by mimicking Helena's actions. She hoped the sentiment would still ring true after she'd said what she had come here to say. 

"How's Nate? Adelaide?" She asked after a moment and Helena's expression warmed. 

"Well. Nate just received a promotion at work and Adelaide brought home a spectacular report card." There was a kind of glimmer in her gaze as she spoke, something that looked like pride. Like happiness. "We went out last night to celebrate. There's a wonderful little restaurant in town that serves the most delectable Asian cuisine I've ever tasted." And it all sounded so normal to Myka. So peacefully normal and exactly what Helena had claimed she wanted. A quiet life, a family, away from the Warehouse. 

Maybe Myka had been wrong in her decision. 

"And you? How have you been?" Helena asked, bending to retrieve the plate of biscuits and, presumably, offer one to Myka.

"I had cancer." The plate slipped from Helena's grasp and dropped the few centimetres back to the tray top with a clatter. Her head snapped up and she gazed at Myka, jaw slack and expression unreadable. Immediately, Myka felt silly. "I'm sorry." She said again, lifting a hand to rub at the back of her neck. "Wow, that was, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just say it like-" Helena's hand in hers stopped the sentence in its tracks.

"Cancer?" She had shift to lean over the arm of the couch, reaching out to Myka and taking one hand in both of hers. "Are you all right?" Her thumb drifted over Myka's knuckles and Helena was looking at her with so much concern that for a moment Myka didn't know how to respond. She was so used to doing everything herself, keeping things quiet and buried. They were alike in that. That was the reason she had kept it secret so long and why she hadn't known how to tell Pete, or what to do once she had. 

"I'm fine." She said with an embarrassed smile and Helena's hand tightened its grip for a second. "The surgery went well and the tumour was benign. The doctor says I'll make a full recovery, so aside from being a little sore, I'm good." Helena breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes in a show of silent gratitude. Grief and sorrow drew lines across her face and Myka could only wonder what she was thinking and feeling. "I didn't want to worry you. That's why I never..." Called, wrote, visited; Myka wasn't sure what to say and she let the sentence hang so that Helena could fill in the blank herself.

"Perfectly understandable." She murmured and the way in which she said it made Myka believe that it was, despite having felt guilty when she hadn't told anyone. "I assume everyone at the Warehouse knows?" Myka tilted her head slowly from side to side.

"They do now. I didn't tell anyone at first." Helena regarded her for a moment, thoughtfully and with what was perhaps remorse.

"That must have been dreadfully difficult." Myka gave a half shrug. 

"I needed to be alone with it for a while, you know?" Helena nodded. "It was all so surreal. I don't think I believed it at first. I thought they must have made some kind of mistake, because I wasn't done yet. There were so many things I wanted to...." She swallowed, suddenly emotional, and tapered off. Helena's hand gave hers another gentle squeeze and she felt comfort in the pressure. Reassurance. And it helped her go on. "But going through that made me look at things different. Made me reconsider... Everything. What's really important."

"Yes I imagine it would." She said, a serious edge to her voice. Myka knew she could relate, knew Helena had had more time alone with her thoughts, time to reevaluate, than most people did in a lifetime. In two lifetimes.

"And I don't mean just for me." Myka continued carefully and she watched as Helena's posture stiffened. She could practically feel an argument forming on the other woman's lips, the very same one they'd had last time, and so Myka pressed on before it could be voiced. "My friends, family, the people I love. I don't want to keep going through life missing chances and I don't want anyone else to either." Helena released a heavy sigh and drew her hand back.

"Myka, we've already discussed this..." But Myka shook her head.

"I know that Claudia keeps in touch with you." Helena gave her a strange look then, the apparent shift in topics throwing her a little, and Myka felt a sharp pain in her chest as she spoke the next words. Imagined, but painful all the same. "Better than I have." Helena remained silent, her unfaltering gaze saying everything for her, and Myka had no idea if the route she had picked was the right one but it was all she had in the moment. "How much did she tell you about our last brush with the end of the world?" Helena shook her head, gesturing vaguely with her hand.

"I know that Paracelsus was unbronzed but Myka, I don't want to be part of that world any-"

"He fixed your time machine, Helena." It was out before she could even think about holding it in and H.G. stared at her, lips parted in shock. "He perfected it." There was another long beat of silence and then Helena laughed. Sharp and short; it was so unexpected that it almost made Myka jump in seat.

"That's ridiculous." She insisted, head shaking her disbelief. "Physical time travel is an impossibility. I spent **years** trying to find a way, to think that someone could simply waltz in and..." Her mouth worked for a few seconds, no sound leaving her. "And suddenly have... What do you mean, perfected?" Myka took a breath at the sound of Helena's ire bubbling to the surface. This was what she had been afraid of. She licked her lips and considered her next words.

"He made it work, exactly like you wanted it to." She tried to avoid seeing the hurt expression that passed over the other woman's face. "He was obsessed with changing the timeline so that he could stay in control of the Warehouse. He combined artifacts with the time machine and travelled back to Warehouse 9. He wanted to change things, kill the regents so that he could remain as Caretaker right up until Warehouse 13. And he did it." Tentatively, Myka reached across the short space between them and rested her hand on Helena's arm, speaking softly. "He made it work." She said again. Helena blinked at her and then she was standing.

"Of course." She muttered, exasperated, running her fingers through her hair. "Why did I never consider..." She seemed to lose herself then, murmuring low enough that Myka couldn't catch what she was saying, and so she waited. For Helena's heart to catch up to her mind, for realisation to strike. She felt her nerves swell again and braced herself for the moment, though she knew that all of the readying in the world wouldn't do any good. It wouldn't make the look of pain and hopefulness she expected to see any easier to take. 

It took a minute or so. And then Helena stopped dead mid-pace and snapped around to face Myka, eyes wide and expression exactly as Myka had pictured it. Shadows of old wounds reopened danced across her face and all at once Myka felt guilt and relief flood her.

"I told Artie," Myka began before H.G. could say anything, "that I thought you should know. That maybe..." It didn't need to be said and Myka felt suddenly uneasy at the thought of voicing Christina's name. "The Regents are discussing it now. They'll meet with Mrs Frederic in a few days and then she'll come to us with their final decision. And I know that there are so many things to consider but..." She sighed and held Helena's gaze. "I thought you should, that you **needed** to know. If anyone knows about the ramifications of time travel, it's you, and if there's even a chance that it could work-"

"Thank you." Helena's gratitude was quietly spoken, almost a whisper, but it broke through Myka's speech like a landslide through thin ice. Her dark eyes shone with something that Myka wouldn't even hazard a guess at. "Thank you for telling me." Myka could only offer a tremulous smile in response.

Helena took her seat once more and exhaled heavily. Myka let the strange silence befall them without argument, content to allow Helena time to process all she had told her. The other woman's gaze had wondered from her and instead had become focused on a spot just beyond the coffee table between them, her thumb absently flicking the ring on her left ring finger in slow, methodical circles as she thought. 

"I know that this is going to be a hard decision." Myka said and Helena let out a mirthless huff of laughter before hunching forward and running the fingers of both hands through her hair again. "But I know you," she swallowed thickly, recalling a clearing in Wyoming and the thought of losing H.G. forever, "and I know that whatever decision you decide to make will be the right one." Helena tilted her head to look at Myka and regarded her curiously for a long moment. 

"I hope you're right." She said with a sigh. "I do so hope you're right."

* * *

Pete, quietly munching on one half of a croissant, approached Claudia where she was sitting at the dining table and peered at the laptop screen over her shoulder.

"Whatcha doin'?" He said in a sing-song voice and she jumped in her seat, throwing a murderous look over her shoulder. 

"Dude, don't do that." He grinned at her and she turned back to the computer. "I'm just going over some stuff." He eyed the back of her head suspiciously, taking another bite of his food and chewing it slowly for a moment. 

"Time travely stuff?" Her fingers stilled on the keys for an instant. 

"Maybe." And the rapid clicking resumed. He pulled out a chair from beside her and sat himself down, happily ignoring the rolling of her eyes as he glanced sidelong at the screen and silently waited. It was only when his persistent table tapping became too much for her to take that she looked at him again. "What?" 

"Nothing." He protested, eyes wide and crumbs flying from his full mouth. She grimaced. 

"You're such a pig." She said and he beamed at her, half-chewed pastry showing between his teeth. He mumbled something about love that she didn't quite catch and was content to ignore and then pointed to the screen.

"Allegany field? Hey, that's where-" The sound of the front door opening cut him off and both he and Claudia turned their heads towards the sound. They caught sight of a familiar jacket being taken off and hung and could see the side of Myka's small suitcase standing against the wall. Claudia reached up and grasped the laptop lid, closing it with a click and stealing Pete's attention for a second. Claudia's gaze never wavered though and she watched as Myka rounded the doorway and entered the living room. 

Alone.

Pete turned to look at her and Claudia felt her expression fall. 

"Is she...?" Pete started, but tapered off when he saw the look on Myka's face. It wasn't simple sadness that shadowed it but something far more profound, something more deeply felt, and it made his own heart ache to look at her. Myka gave a slow shake of her head.

Helena had not come back with her.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N** : Sorry for such a lag in between updates! Hectic life, busy work, moving house - you know the drill. ;) Still, no excuse. This has actually been done for a while, I just needed to type it up. Your patience is very much appreciated... if any of you are still here. ;)

* * *

Arthur Nielsen was Warehouse 13. He lived and breathed it. Rare was a day he went without thinking about artifacts or areas of the Warehouse that needed attention, even during those mandatory holidays that they made him take every so often. He had dedicated twenty-five years of his life to the place, to his profession, to keeping the world safe. He couldn't imagine what his life might have been if Mrs Frederic hadn't sought him out and he didn't want to. He'd never wanted another life, not once. Despite all the bad things he'd had to endure, the people he hadn't been able to save and had lost; he couldn't bring himself to think about trading any of it. With all that the Warehouse had taken, it had also given him more than he could have ever imagined and the endless wonder didn't stop at the end of the umbilicus. It extended a few miles down the road, to a bed and breakfast that housed the family he'd neither wanted nor asked for and now couldn't picture his life without. Even though he was as gruff as a grizzly with them at times, he loved them like they were his own children. He'd do anything for them.

Which was precisely why he was down in the Warehouse aisles now, in the dead of night, making his way to the area where the time machine was still set up. Waiting like the rest of them for a final decision to be made.

He approached the methodically chosen artifacts and let his eyes linger on each one as if he were soaking in their appearance. Maybe committing each one to memory as though he hadn't before or perhaps waiting for one to leap at him, he wasn't sure why he was so intent on them. Maybe he was making sure they were all still there, that it would still be possible. He was nervous about what the Regents' decision would be, largely because he knew what he wanted them to say. He would never have expected to want things to fall in H.G. Wells' favour and yet here he was. Just when he thought he couldn't be surprised anymore.

He'd had his reservations about her and they were ones that had proved well founded, though that was a different lifetime now. She had done so much for them since then on her road to redemption. Alternate timeline or not, she had sacrificed herself to save him. To save the part of his family that she could. He would never be able to express what that meant to him and so he'd have to settle for things like this. He'd do what he could.

"You spend far too much time down here." He jumped and spun on a heel, clutching his chest. Mrs Frederic regarded him with as much amusement as she ever showed.

"You know," he began, speaking a lot less brusquely than he would to anyone else, "you never get used to that. Even after twenty-five years."

"Twenty-six." She corrected and he waved a dismissive hand at her. "You're aware that there's little need for overtime hours at the moment?" He shot her a narrow-eyed glare.

"The Warehouse never sleeps, you know that." She arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't either." He harrumphed, folding his arms across his chest, and opened his mouth to say something only to stop before the words came out. His eyes widened and he felt his heart rate spike.

"The Regents. Did they make a desicion? Is that why-" Mrs Frederic shook her head.

"The jury is still out I'm afraid." He nodded but his shoulders sagged at the news. "Actually Arthur, I came here to ask you your opinion on matter." He straightened and looked at her, surprise lifting his wiry eyebrows.

"My opinion?" He echoed and she inclined her head. His gaze faltered then, as he looked around at the artifact laden shelves and the time machine behind them. He knew the dangers, every single one of them, but it didn't change what he felt in his heart was the right thing to do. "If it were up to me," he said with a sigh, "I'd allow her to go back. I'd give her the chance to save her daughter." She stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, not speaking or blinking, and the intensity of the gaze unnerved him a little.

"Even knowing the risks?"

"Yes." And in a way, it was an easy answer to give. Because he knew what he would do if he were in H.G.'s position, Nate and Adelaide aside, and part of him wondered if Mrs Frederic already knew that too. Maybe that was why she had come to him.

"Very well." She said, giving a curt bow of her head, and he looked at her in a way that silently asked if that was it. If that was all she'd come to say. She gave him no indication that she wished to say more and he glanced over his shoulder toward the time machine.

When he turned back, she was gone.

"Never get used to it." He mumbled again with a huff of laughter. Then he moved to the back wall where Paracelsus had opened the portal and ran his hand along the rough surface. He paused about halfway down, index finger tapping thoughtfully against rock, and then he turned back towards the artifacts. He walked over to the sundial and let his eyes roam for a few seconds. They stilled so abruptly they almost swayed in their sockets.

There, running right through the stone of the dial on the far side, was a crack. Thinner than his pinky, but clear as day.

The sundial was fractured.

* * *

When Myka Bering read a book, she lost herself in it. She became each and every character and the world in which she lived ceased to be for a few hours, replaced instead by the one about which she was reading. She'd been that way since childhood and could vividly remember the sound of her mother's amused voice as she called Myka's name for the umpteenth time and finally got her attention. She had always found it hard to tear herself away from a novel once started, something that had been encouraged at home, tolerated at school and used as a tool for ridicule by classmates. She had been further along in that regard, and honestly in most others too, than the children she went to school with and they teased her with words like 'bookworm' and 'nerd'. It had been hard at first. She hadn't been able to understand why she was being targeted for loving something like reading. Books  **were**  her world; her parents owned a book store and she spent a large amount of her time there. Getting lost in the maze of stacks that had become fewer and more easily navigated as she got older.

Her mother had consoled her, her father had told her that they were merely jealous, and with time it got easier. She continued to use books as her escape and learned to if not ignore the snide comments, let them roll off and disappear into the shadow at her back. It had still been hard, children could be cruel, but she had slowly grown into her own and things like fencing and her studies became a welcome distraction when other issues sprouted. But it had been a long time since she had allowed herself to dwell on such things. And though the fantasies of childhood had waned, there were few things that Myka connected with as deeply and completely as a good book.

She remembered the first time she read an H.G. Wells book. Her father had presented her with a copy of The Island of Doctor Moreau when she was twelve and she'd enjoyed it so thoroughly that she finished it in a single day over one weekend. He'd given her his own copy of The Time Machine not long after and that had been the one to cement things. She had been pulled into that world so completely that she'd dreamt about it for weeks afterwards. The teenaged version of herself couldn't have even fathomed the possibility of one day meeting famed author. But endless wonder birthed the unimaginable and Myka had been so pleasantly surprised. For a while.

Curled into am armchair in the living room of the B and B, it was not one of those that she read now. Those deep connections were few and powerful enough to cause pain, and H.G. Wells had proved to perhaps be the strongest of them all. Tied into memories she hadn't even been present for the making of. She read without thinking now, simply absorbing the words and allowing the distraction to take a hold of her wandering mind and hold it still, if only for a little while. She needed a break from replaying things over in her head. From thinking up convincing speeches and imagining all the ways in which things could have turned out differently.

"Were you always this nerdy?" Of course, there were other things to distract her as well. She glanced up from her book to find Pete standing in the doorway, one hand curled around a handful of popcorn as the other popped individual pieces into his mouth.

"Were you always this hungry?" She countered, turning her attention back to her book.

"I'm a growing boy." He crunched another piece.

"Sideways." She scoffed, without looking up, and heard his little hurt intake of breath.

"Do you think I'm fat?" Myka sighed and closed the book, looking back up at him with a fondly irritated smile.

"I think you're an idiot." He beamed at her.

"But the best kind right?" She hummed aloud, thoughtfully, and pursed her lips.

"You're kind of like a puppy that has no idea how anything works yet, but is at least cute enough to get by day to day." He grinned triumphantly, shoved the rest of the popcorn into his mouth and then pointed at her.

"You think I'm cute!" Bits of half-chewed popcorn were catapulted forward as he spoke and she rolled her eyes at him. It didn't dissuade him in the slightest though and he continued to repeat the words in an ever increasing pitch, all the while edging closer to her, until Claudia entered from the kitchen.

"You're like an obnoxious parrot, dude. Stop." She dropped down onto the couch, cradling a large baby-blue plastic bowl of the fluffy snack food in her hands. Pete backed up towards her and reached down but she slapped his hand away before it could make contact. "I told you, make your own." He pouted and made a show of rubbing the back of his hand.

"But I always burn it. Hey! Do you think there's an artifact that can stop that?" The two women exchanged a look.

"Yeah, it's called shutting off the microwave when the popcorn stops popping." Claudia explained, very slowly, like she was talking to a toddler. Only she suspected a toddler would have more patience than the overgrown one that stood before her. Pete continued to pout.

"What's with the popcorn anyway?" Myka asking, laying her book flat on one of the chair's armrests.

"We," Pete drew the word out and played a silent drumroll with his hands, "are having a movie night." His grin made him look like he'd just invented the home movie viewing and decided it was the greatest thing in all existence and everyone should love it.

"And by  **we**  you mean..." She trailed off expectantly and he filled in the rest by gesturing between the three of them. "Nope." She said, popping the 'P', and then gathered up her book and bounced into a standing position in one smooth motion.

"Hey, no!" He made to grab her but she, as usual, was too quick for him. She caught his arm and twisted, hauling it up and around his back in the blink of an eye. "Ow, ow, ow!" He lifted himself up on his tiptoes to relieve some of the pressure and shuffled around on the spot. She didn't release him until he apologised and begged her to let him go and even then she only did so with a smirk.

"I'm not watching some exaggerated the retelling of what went on in the Vietnam war or another movie depicting the various reasons why action stars past their prime should trade in their machine guns for walking sticks." He looked like someone had just told him Hooters wasn't a real place and Claudia took the brief reprieve as her cue to chime in.

"Ah, but this one is neither of those." She said, mysteriously. "Not even close." Myka raised an expectant eyebrow at her. "It's totally historical."

"Yeah!" Pete added. "It's about this King guy who everyone thinks is unfit to rule because he stutters which, let me just say, totally unfair. And mean. How does a stutter have anything to do with whether or not you have a head for politics?" He looked completely bemused by the idea but Myka could see that the majority of it was likely down to the fact that he'd only read the back of the DVD box and had no real clue as to what he was talking about. She glanced back and forth between the pair. It was Claudia's expression that made everything click into place and as touched as she was by the gesture, she was amused enough to have a little fun with them.

"So, you rented a historical movie, one with no guns, no explosions, and stars people with accents that you," she pointed an accusatory finger at Pete, "can't understand half the time, of your own free will?" After a short pause, they both nodded. "Right." Myka drew the word out, unconvinced, but decided to let it go. She knew what they were doing and their hearts were in the right place. It was just that them trying to distract her only reminded her of the fact that there was something to be distracted from. Not that she'd tell them that. Still, they had been tiptoeing around it ever since she'd arrived back from Wisconsin, alone. No one had wanted to bring it up - the time machine or its inventor - and when either was accidentally referred to an awkward silence usually followed. A silence that Myka herself inevitably ended up having to be the one to break. "Fine." She eventually sighed and Pete let out a whoop of victory before leaning down to high-five a quickly compliant Claudia. "But the second you make that dumb poupon joke, I'm gone."

All in all, it turned out to be a nice evening. Leena arrived part way through the trailers and was coerced into joining them, and Pete spent the first half hour of the movie trying to steal more popcorn. Popcorn that Claudia  **did** in fact share, but only with the women sitting on either side of her. There was still a pout lingering at the corners of his mouth when the credits started to roll.

Claudia stifled a yawn and got to her feet.

"I'm too young to be this old." She muttered, mournful, and disappeared into the kitchen with the now empty popcorn bowl. Myka watched her leave with a warm smile and then bid Leena goodnight as the housekeeper also made her exit, leaving her and Pete as the room's only occupants.

Pete was very blatant with his unease outside of any professional circumstance. When he was on the job he was able to keep it together, concealed. But when it was something close to home, more personal, his ticks shone like sunlight through Swiss cheese. He'd fidget with his hands and crack his neck, both of which he was doing now, and hum various annoying soft rock tunes. Half of which Myka didn't recognise and whenever she made the mistake of telling him so she wouldn't hear the end of it for days.

"So," he began after he'd started to hum and Myka had thrown him a glare, "did you like it?" She nodded. She had, even if she wasn't really one for movies or television shows. Maybe a documentary here and there if it was something she was interested in, but it was no secret that she was more of a literary person. Still, they had obviously wanted to reach out to her in her apparent time of need and she didn't think a group reading session would have gone over too well. She wasn't even sure if Pete actually remembered how to read something that didn't have pictures attached. "Good, good." He said, the words soft and quiet; a tone she wasn't used to hearing from him, and she wondered how long it was going to take for him to ask. "Hey Mykes?" Apparently not long at all. "You okay?" She let out a heavy sigh and resisted the urge to close her eyes, instead plastering on a smile and turning her head so that she was looking at him.

"I'm fine, Pete." Instantly his brow furrowed and she became a little unnerved by how well he could read her. The words had sounded genuine to her own ears.

"You know it's okay if you're not, right?" She didn't say anything, just looked away. "Look, I know this stuff with H.G. gets under your skin, it always does." She wondered when exactly she'd become so transparent. "I know you feel like she isn't making the right choices but..." And then it was his turn to sigh. "I don't think there's anything anyone can do to change that. Even you. But, I mean, I get it. Wanting what you think is best for people and not having it match what they think is best for them." He ran the flat of his hand over his shaggy hair. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm here if you ever want to talk. About anything." She flashed him a smile, a real one this time.

"Thanks, Pete." But she said no more.

* * *

The next morning found Myka and Claudia working in companionable silence in Artie's office. The redhead sat hunched over the computer desk, furiously clicking the mouse and every so often punctuating the clicks with a smattering of keyboard taps. Myka was sat at the table, neck-deep in papers and flash cards, which was saying something given her height. She flipped between a few pages, thoughtfully worrying her lower lip before dropping them back to the table and leaning back in the chair. She covered her face with her hands and let out a groan of frustration.

"How does he find anything in here?!" Claudia threw a smile and a chuckle over her shoulder.

"I think he uses some kind of ancient caveman system from his youth."

"Yeah," Myka scoffed, "me see paper, look like others, make fit in box." She grunted and Claudia laughed again. "It doesn't make any sense! I mean, look at this." She held up an official looking document that Claudia couldn't make head nor tail of from where she was sitting. "This is a document detailing a list of things that still needed to be addressed after the Warehouse was moved to America." Claudia nodded and Myka held up another sheet. "And this is a receipt for an antique globe bought in nineteen-ninety-seven. Why would he have them in the same drawer?" Claudia gave a half-hearted shrug.

"You can't explain crazy. Unless an artifact is causing it." She let out a gasp, a sudden wide-eyed understanding lighting her face."That would seriously explain so much." Myka's expression softened and she smiled at the younger woman. "Maybe even those things he calls eyebrows."Myka pursed her lips and got to her feet again to stretch.

"I don't think there's anything that can explain those." The redhead brought her hands together and twiddled her thumbs as she rocked the chair from side to side.

"Electric shock? It would explain the shape of them, or lack thereof, and I think it can stimulate hair growth too." Myka let out a full belly laugh at that and bent to shuffle the papers into something resembling a stack. "Maybe he styles them to look like that."

"The many mysteries of Arthur Nielsen." They both started at the new voice, looking up and around to find Mrs Frederic standing in front of the door to the umbilicus. She was regarding them with her usual ambiguous expression, though Myka was almost certain she detected a hint of a smile lingering about the timeless woman's lips.

"Mrs F." Claudia greeted cheerfully and then caught herself at the sight of a less than impressed raised eyebrow. "-rederic." She back peddled and then covered her unease with a cough and swivelled in her chair.

"Good morning, Agent Donovan." Dark eyes glanced towards Myka and then back to the redhead. "Would you mind giving myself and Agent Bering a moment?" A brief but slightly awkward silence followed the question as Myka and Claudia exchanged confused looks.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. No problemo." She hastily got to her feet and grabbed her shoulder bag and Farnsworth. "I'll just..." She jerked her thumb towards the door that exited out onto the balcony and then disappeared through it.

"Please, have a seat." Mrs Frederic gestured to one of the chairs and Myka did as she was asked, setting aside the papers she had been fiddling with.

"Am I in some kind of trouble?" Her lips twitched upwards in a nervous smile as the Caretaker sat down beside her. She placed the purse she was rarely without on the table and levelled Myka with a look that was deceptively nonplussed.

"Is there something you feel you  **should**  be in trouble for?" Myka knew what a trap looked like, even when it was set by supposed friendly allies. Mrs Frederic was giving her a chance to come clean and even though Myka hoped the ramifications of her actions wouldn't be too severe regardless of whether or not to chose to, she didn't like lying.

"Nothing that I feel I should be, no." She said carefully. "But I know my opinions differ from those of the Regents on a number of different subjects." Mrs Frederic's eyes scanned her for a long moment, giving Myka the impression that she was being scrutinized on a microscopic level.

"You feel that revealing potentially volatile information to H.G. Wells without the consent of either myself or the Regents was the correct decision to make given her history?" Myka baulked at the implication.

"H.G. poses no threat to the Warehouse." She said, temper in check but straining against its bindings. "She's already been punished for what she did. And it might have been in a different time line but she died to save Pete and Artie and me. She's still that person, still capable of that kind of sacrifice. Her history should stay where it belongs. In the past." It took a moment, silent and tense, but eventually Myka was provided with enough decency to blush after her tirade and Mrs Frederic finally smiled at her.

"A topic you feel very passionately about." It wasn't a question.

"She's a good person." Mrs Frederic leaned in a little closer.

"My apprehension does not stem from the question of whether or not she is a good person Agent Bering, but rather if she is a trustworthy one. Especially in regards to a subject that she would undoubtedly find emotional."

"I would trust H.G. with my life." Myka said immediately. "I have." There was another lull in conversation and then Mrs Frederic nodded.

"Very well." And for a second, Myka thought that was it. The end of their little talk. That she would blink and the Caretaker would suddenly be gone. As it turned out, that was not the case. "However," Myka swallowed involuntarily, "regardless of whether or not the decision you made was in fact the correct one, I'm afraid you may have acted rashly." Myka furrowed her brow but waited for an explanation. "The Regents are still debating your request and if they were to deny it... I would say that there's a very high likelihood of Miss Wells being hurt." Myka let out a heavy sigh. She knew that. She knew there was a chance the Regents would say no, and she'd told the wayward agent as much when she had visited.

"I know, but I thought that it was a risk worth taking. If she had somehow found out there had been a chance and I hadn't told her..." Myka trailed off with a small shake of her head and Mrs Frederic seemed to accept the answer for what it was.

"I understand why you did it, I'm only concerned with what the outcome may be." She stood from the table and picked up her handbag, tucking it under one arm. "You needn't worry about any disciplinary actions being taken against you however, so there is a silver lining to all things." Then she smiled and, to Myka's surprise, left via the door she had appeared in front of earlier.

She'd thought about it not being allowed, of course she had. She'd weighed the pros and cons and even made a list in her head that she'd gone over so many times, the words had become mentally smudged. In the end though, she suspected that her heart had won out, but that it had still been the right choice.

"-wasn't slacking! Mrs F asked for some privacy!" She heard the voice and the grumbled response a few seconds before Claudia was playfully pushed back into the office with Artie following closely behind.

"Well, now she's gone." He pointed out after scanning the room. "So you can get back to work." Claudia slumped back down into the computer chair.

"Oh joyful day," she dead-panned, tone void of all emotion, "however will I contain my excitement and happiness." Artie rolled his eyes at her and then caught Myka's

"Here you are! I've been looking everywhere for you." She tilted her head to one side and wrinkled her nose.

"We have these things called cell phones now. Pretty great. If you have one and the person you're trying to reach has one, you can get a hold of them wherever they are. Most of the time." He let out a rough harrumph and adjusted the placement of his glasses. Behind him Claudia gave her a thumbs up over her head without looking away from the monitor.

"He probably doesn't trust them." The redhead pointed out, fingers a blur over the keyboard. "Thinks they're all bugged. Filled to the brim with grumblings and conspiracy theories. Like Winnie the Pooh and honey."

"Quiet, demon child!" He barked and she fell quiet with a grin.

"What's up?" Myka asked when he turned back to her. He opened his mouth to speak but when no words came out, he closed it again and exhaled slowly. Her expression shifted. "Is something... did the Regents-" He waved away the remainder of the sentence.

"They still haven't made up their minds. It's... about the time machine." He heard the creak of the computer chair and knew that Claudia had spun around to look at him. He took a deep breath and braced himself. "There's a small fracture in the surface of the sundial. It wasn't there before the trip to Warehouse Nine, so I can only assume it appeared sometime during the portal being open or after it was closed and that it was likely caused by the shift in time." Myka stared at him for a long moment, too long, and it was Claudia who eventually spoke.

"How? I mean, artifacts don't just break. They're like, made from adamantium or something." She said, looking bewildered. "It takes a lot to even nick one. You literally have to set them on fire or blow them up."

"I think you're underestimating how powerful a time shift can be for the things involved. The people, especially the artifacts. None of them were created for this purpose, to work with other artifacts, or bear such a huge undertaking. The strain was probably too much." He lifted a hand to scratch at the crown of his head.

"What does it mean?" Myka asked, quiet and sounding something close to fearful. Artie looked at her, mouth drawn down, helpless.

"I don't know." He admitted. "It could make the process unstable, but we won't know that until we try it again."

"And we don't want to do that before we need to." Myka filled in. "In case we only get one shot at it." He nodded. "That's even if she changes her mind." She didn't sound convinced at the probability of such a possibility though and neither Artie nor Claudia knew what to say to such uncharacteristic defeat. "I guess we just... cross that bridge if we come to it."

"We'll figure it out." Claudia sounded more certain than Myka suspected the younger woman felt, but then again the redhead had proved on more than one occasion that she might very well be the only adult in their group. Myka smiled at her, but it didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Are those my files?!" Artie asked, tone brusque and agitated as he finally noticed the mess in front of Myka.

"Told you he was gonna flip." Claudia shot her a grin and for a little while, everything was back to blissfully hectic normalcy.

* * *

It was late in the evening when Myka arrived home to the bed and breakfast. Late enough in fact that Pete, Claudia and Steve were already holed up in rooms on the upper floor and Leena could be heard washing up in the kitchen. She shut the door behind her and flipped the lock, then slid the chain into position. After Artie had almost had a coronary and the vein in his forehead had reduced to its normal size, she'd been allowed to continue her organizing under the condition that she write him explicit instructions as to how exactly she had filed things. It had taken her the majority of the day but she only had W-Z left to sort through and she found an odd sense of tranquillity and satisfaction in undertaking and complete such tasks.

She shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then moved towards the sound of clinking dishes. Leena was indeed where Myka expected and the woman who was so much more than a house keeper addressed her without turning around.

"You should be careful." She said and Myka paused in the doorway, confused. "Someone might accuse you of working too hard." She could hear the smile in Leena's voice.

"Someone, huh?" Myka leaned against the frame as Leena pulled the plug up from the bottom of the sink to let the water drain. "Would that someone happen to make the best raspberry cake I've ever tasted?" Leena let out a chuckle as she dried her hands on a towel and turned to look at Myka.

"She might." The other woman said with a slow nod. "But I can promise you that she would only say it because she's looking out for you." Myka reached her hand around to rub at the back of her neck.

"I know, but I'm not." Leena looked less than convinced and Myka held her hand up, palm flat. "I swear. I know what it feels like to burn out and I have no intention of dragging myself down that road ever again." The answer apparently sufficed and Leena glanced down to make sue the towel she was folding was neat and square.

"How are you feeling?" She didn't look up until she was done asking the question and Myka felt like a deer in the headlights knowing that the woman would be able to see right through any lie she might attempt.

"Tired." So she opted for a half-truth. The housekeeper had an uncanny ability for reading artifacts and knowing where they belonged, and Myka was as close to positive as she could get without having blatant confirmation that she could do basically the same thing with people too.

"Kind of proving someone's point." She warned, playfully. Myka laughed and waved her off, standing up straight and pushing herself away from the door frame.

"Okay, okay." She acquiesced, starting to back away. "I'm going to bed."

"To sleep." Leena said, stern and final. "If I come to check on you and find you reading..." She let the sentence hang threateningly and Myka's laugh filled the silence that followed. She bid the woman a silent goodnight with a tilt of her head and turned away.

She'd already ascended a few stairs when the knocks sounded. She glanced over at the hallway clock and didn't even have time to wonder who would be calling so late before she was given an answer.

"Tell Artie he needs to pick a place to sleep and stick to it!" Leena yelled from the kitchen and Myka's lips curved upwards as she slid the chain out and dropped it.

"Might as well try telling a bear where to hibernate." She called back and flipped the lock to the opposite side, a teasing comment already forming.

Only it wasn't Artie on the other side of the door.

And the words died on her lips before they could be voiced, silenced by dark eyes, pale skin, and an uncertain smile.

"Hello Myka."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N** : Hi everyone. :) I just wanted to thank everyone who's still reading for... well, still reading. ;) I'm sorry about the length between updates, but I promise; I'm always working on this one! Everything is all planned and plotted out, it just needs to actually be written down. That being said, I'm probably going to put the fic on hiatus after this update. Only because the story is going to start taking some twist and turns from here on out and I want to have everything written and as close to perfect as I can make it before I post the whole thing. I don't want to mess anything up. ;) So again, thanks to everyone still reading. :) You're more than welcome to drop me a line if you're curious about the progress, or anything else.

* * *

Mirages were something that Myka had found fascinating as a child. She had, briefly and without much thought towards repercussions, wished for the opportunity to experience one in real life rather than just through the albeit very descriptive written word. The idea of seeing something so devastatingly realistic captured her imagination and she enjoyed the notion of the human brain being able to trick itself.

 

She hadn't thought about that for a long time, had honestly forgotten it had ever been something that had resonated with her.

 

And so, she stared. Until Helena began to look just the slightest bit uncomfortable and Myka forced herself to try again.

 

"What..." And instantly floundered, struggling through a handful of basic vowel sounds before she recovered. "What are you doing here?" It was perhaps one of the more pointless and blunt questions she had ever asked. Helena let out a nervous laugh and Myka was struck by how odd it sounded coming from the other woman's lips."Rather a long conversation to be held on a porch in the middle of the night." Myka started suddenly, embarrassed, and wordlessly stepped aside. H.G. crossed the threshold, ducking her head as she passed by Myka and lingered in the hallway for a moment, unsure, before heading into the sitting room. Myka closed the door and flipped the lock. She blew out a breath, long and slow, and pressed her forehead against the smooth wood, letting her eye close. Then she took a deep breath in through her nose and pushed herself away from the door to follow her.

 

Helena was standing in the middle of the room, oozing uncertainty with her fingers twisting together in front of her body.

Her eyes flitted to Myka's, lips forming another hesitant smile that Myka returned with likewise sentiment.

 

Silence. Myka had despised and relished it in equal measure, though when it fell between herself and Helena, it was different. Always different. Neither entirely welcome nor uncomfortable, but weighted with something. Something unspoken and unexplainable, it simply was. It was much the same now, except it lacked the communication that other moments had afforded them. Now it was cautious and strange, deafening in its lack of familiarity.

 

"I must apologise for showing up unannounced." Thankful for the break and amused by their role reversal, Myka's smile grew a little bolder at the words.

 

"I can't really complain, can I?" Helena let out a small huff of a chuckle and Myka waved a hand towards the couch. H.G. took a seat and she followed suit, sitting at the far end of the sofa and letting her eyes wander over the other woman. She looked tired, as close to bedraggled as Myka had ever seen her, and her completion was paler than she was used to.

 

And Myka wanted to ask, wanted to be certain as to why Helena was here, but she couldn't make the words come.

 

"Helena." The surprise was barely evident in Leena's voice, she covered it well, and when Myka looked up she found the house keeper smiling. "It's good to see you."

 

"Likewise." The inventor said with a smile, though there was a small frown on her features that Myka couldn't read. It was as if the other woman wanted to say more but didn't know what. Like the thought had vanished the second it had appeared, but lingered long enough for a memory of its existence to form. "Sorry to have called so late in the evening." Leena brushed the comment away with a wave of her hand.

 

"Nonsense. Can I get you something? Tea?" Helena declined with a shake of her head. She and Leena continued to make small talk for a few minutes, buy Myka was unable to stay tuned into it. Her mind was racing. She loved Leena but at that moment she wished the woman would just say goodnight so that she could find out why Helena was there.

 

And then suddenly, her wish was granted. Leena was gone and Helena was staring at her with the barest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips.

 

"I've surprised you." She said after a moment and Myka noisily let out the breath she'd been unknowingly holding. Her mouth curved upwards and she rolled her eyes.

 

"Yeah well, nothing new there." And finally there was an exchange between them that they understood. That they were comfortable with. Myka shifted body, angling it towards Helena, and propped her arm up on the back of the couch, resting her cheek on her fist.

 

"I'm... Not entirely sure where to begin." Helena said after a heavily pregnant pause, glancing askance at the woman beside her. Myka gave her an understanding smile, but didn't say anything to push either way. H.G. would talk if she wanted to. "This hasn't..." She paused with a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a shaky laugh. "It's not been easy. This decision. And I'm not certain that I've made the right one, but I couldn't stay knowing I'd been given another chance." She paused at that and flashed Myka a wry smile. "Or a chance at a chance." Myka took that as her moment to chime in.

 

"The Regents still haven't contacted us." Helena nodded with a thoughtful pause of her lips.

 

"I suspected at much." She reclined back against the couch with a sigh. "It's rather a big decision all around."

 

"And what is it exactly you've decided?" The question finally broke free and for a heartbeat Myka stared at the inventor, shocked that it had left her. But she managed to gather her composure in time to press on. "I mean, you're here, obviously. But I don't... I don't want to assume and say the wrong thing and look like....” She gestured pointlessly as she searched for the word, but it never found her and she simply let the sentence hang. Helena took the time to steady herself before speaking, drawing in a deep breath.

 

"If the Regents will allow it, I plan to go back." And Myka was surprised how the words felt weighted even to her. Like the air around them had suddenly turned heavy and thick and suffocating. Yet at the same time she felt a small sense of release, felt it drift up and away like a lost balloon searching for the highest point in the sky. "How could I not? She's my daughter." Unbidden, Myka felt tears prick the backs of her eyes and she blinked them back in a refusal of freedom. She shifted closer and reached for Helena's hand to give it a gentle squeeze, not certain whether or not she should voice her next question.

 

"What about Nate and Adelaide?" She regretted it instantly when Helena visibly grimaced at the mention of their names.

 

"They didn't understand. Couldn't possibly." She sounded sad but resigned, and it pained Myka to see such a brilliant woman look so defeated. Unable to be one hundred percent happy with the choice she'd made. "I couldn't tell them the whole truth of it of course. Instead I had to explain to Nate that it simply wasn't working between us. That I love Adelaide and him terribly but that wasn't where I felt I needed to be." She gave a short bark of depreciating laughter. "I suppose the most painful part of it was that what I was saying wasn't entirely fabricated. All variations of half-truths and white lies. Things I am far too familiar with." Myka furrowed her brow. "But I realise that should the Regents approve the request and I prove successful in my efforts, time will shift and neither one of them will have ever known me. The pain they feel now will never have been. I'll be no one to them." And it was supposed to be a positive, but it didn't sound like one. Helena sounded remorseful and torn, like a woman who had been pulled in so many directions there were only scattered pieces of her left.

 

And Myka tried to hold on to the knowledge that Christina was the only person who could put those pieces back together. Make Helena whole again.

 

"But it's done now. Nate's a good man, a good father. He's all Adelaide ever needed. As much as I may have wished it to be true... My place was never with them." Myka nodded, slow and a little sad.

 

"Are you sure?" It was too late to go back now but the question had to be asked. Helena turned dark eyes on her and Myka's very existence seemed to still at the emotion shining in them. Like always, everything with Helena was raw and undiluted.

 

"I have to be." And sometimes Myka wasn't sure what to do in the face of it all. So she gave the hand in hers another squeeze and was surprised, as she so often is with the woman beside her, when the hand turned and fingers tangled with her own. "I have to be."

 

* * *

 

 

"I've tried everything, dude. It's like the Warehouse is prepping itself for Summer or something." Claudia said, spinning in the computer chair and catching Pete's eye with every go around. He shrugged himself into his hoodie, teeth chattering over-dramatically, and flipped up the hood.

 

"Isn't there some kind of override switch you can work your magic on?" He asked, wiggling his fingers like Mickey Mouse in Fantasia. She let her sneakers drag against the floor to stop herself and raised an eyebrow at him.

 

"He asks, as if I haven't already tried. This isn't my first day of hacker school." He gave no indication that he'd heard her and started jumping on the spot like a half frozen jackrabbit, trying to warm up.

 

The Warehouse had been unusually cold for a while now, growing steadily more so since their little trip to Warehouse Nine, and try as she might Claudia had been unable to find the reason behind it. She found the whole thing maddening and Pete make suggestions of simple fixes was almost enough to make her scream. She swivelled away from him and back to the computer screen, clicking through a few windows before the three dimensional blueprints for the Warehouse popped into view. She hit a few keys and the screen changed slightly, colours changing from whites and yellows to a mix of reds, oranges and blues.

 

"Okay, look at this." Pete jogged towards her and glanced over her shoulder, still bouncing on the spot. "The far east and south east corners are still- oh my god, dude, can you stand still for like two seconds!" He grumbled but did as he was told. "They're still at normal temp, but there's a current running from the far Northwest sector that spills out into the rest of the Warehouse." She twisted to look back at him and he blinked at her.

 

"So, what's over there?" He asked, jabbing the LCD display with a thick finger and making her wince. She batted his hand away.

 

"That's just it, there's nothing. Nothing that would cause this anyway. It's all storage back there. No artifacts playing tricks, no leaky pipes, nothing." She spun back around so fast that she almost knocked Pete on his backside.

 

"Chalk it up to Warehouse freakery, I guess." He said with a shrug, backing up until he could perch himself on the edge of the table.

 

"No." She pouted, throwing her hands in the air. "Everything has a source, even in the Warehouse. Things don't just **happen**. " He dipped his head and raised his eyebrows at her, staring until she finally rolled her eyes in defeat. "Fine. Whatever. This is me leaving it alone." The end of that particular conversation was punctuated by the sound of the door to the umbilicus unlocking and a second later Myka pushed it open and stepped into the office.

 

There was a heartbeat of silence in which the three of them all made eye contact and then the soft click of the door closing snapped them all out of it.

 

"And Little Miss Sleep In finally awakens." Myka shot him a glare. "Late night?" It was a question that was rhetorical at it's core; he knew H.G. had shown up last night. Knew Myka had likely been with the woman, talking into the early hours of the morning, and she in turn knew he wanted details. And Pete was about a subtle as a sledgehammer.

 

"Yes." Was all the answer she gave him before sitting down at the table he was perched on and pulling a folder out of the bag she was carrying. She laid it open on the surface and started perusing the pages. She could **feel** the looks being exchanged between the two other occupants of the room and it made her mouth twitch, just a little.

 

"So..." Claudia wasn't much better than Pete in circumstances such as these and Myka let out a sigh as she sat back and looked up. Right into the expectant gazes of her team mates. "H.G., huh?" Myka pursed her lips and gave a curt nod of her head. Just because she was giving in that didn't mean she was going to make it easy for them.

 

"Yep." But it was hard to contain her smirk once Pete had started slapping out a tune on his thighs with the palms of his hands.

 

"So is she like back back? Or back for now back?" Pete went on, trying to sound conversational and mostly failing.

 

"That kind of depends on the Regents." His eyes popped wide and he stood up straight.

 

"So she's going to do it? If they allow it?" His excitement was palpable and even Claudia was sitting forward in her chair now. Myka felt a bit awkward talking about it without Helena there, but they were going to find out sooner or later and she suspected the other woman would rather not talk about it until everything was set in stone.

 

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

 

"Wow." Claudia breathed after a moment of quiet and it was funny how such a small word, when said, right could accurately convey such a huge feeling.

 

"But there's still a lot to go through. Things to work out." Myka indicated the folder in front of her. "We're still a long way off even if we get the okay." That gave the others pause for thought and Pete's excitement became significantly less. "But maybe don't..." Myka worried her lower lip for a few heartbeats. "Maybe don't talk to H.G. about this? I don't want to get her hopes up." She turned her attention back to the papers and muttered under her breath. "Any more than I already have." Pete arched an eyebrow but neither he nor Claudia commented.

 

Then it was just the three of them for a while, two trying to work in peace and one asking pointless questions whilst he went about the office touching everything he could get his hands on. Another average day in the Warehouse.

 

An averageness that came to an abrupt and screeching halt when H.G. Wells arrived unannounced. She entered with a smile and a "good morning" that was eagerly greeted by those who hadn't yet been reacquainted with the wayward agent, and even the one that had.

 

"It's really awesome to see you again." Claudia said, sweeping in for a brief hug and then back out hopefully before anyone would comment on it.

 

"Yeah, it is." Pete added, wandering forward and reaching out to give Helena's shoulder a brief and slightly awkward looking squeeze. Myka watched the two interact, nerves fluttering in the very pit of her stomach. Bridges had been mended after the burning, but she still wasn't sure how sound the structure was.

 

"I must say, it's nice to be back." Helena made her way to the slatted windows that overlooked the main floor of the Warehouse and peered out. "I've missed this place." Her voice was soft, almost reverent, and undoubtedly sincere. Myka smiled. "And all of you of course." Helena said as she turned back to them, lips curved and teeth showing.

 

The sudden blaring of an alarm jerked their attentions to the computer and Helena lifted an eyebrow.

 

"I've not missed **that**." Claudia waved the comment away.

 

"It's just the gooery. With it being so cold in here the vats are running cool. I can fix it from here."

 

"Good." That from Artie, brusque as ever as he descending from the stairs that led to his room above the office. "We have more pressing matters at hand."

 

"Were you up there this whole time?" Artie glanced at Pete, wiry eyebrows drawn together.

 

"Yes. Stop touching things." The younger man shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. "Now I know that the Regents haven't made a decision yet," Myka shifted in her seat, sitting straighter and shooting a sidelong glance at Helena, "but I think there are some things that we should go over in the event that they do say yes."

 

"Are you sure we should be doing that now?" Myka asked, posture tense and unnatural and in a tone to match. Artie and Helena looked at her in unison.

 

"Why wouldn't we?" The man ask and Myka stood, unconsciously pulling at the sleeves of the thick grey sweater she'd donned in preparation for the cool temperatures of the Warehouse.

 

"It's just that, I mean, Helena just got here last night and I thought maybe she'd need some time to... to process." She'd met Helena's gaze halfway through her statement and held it until the end. She was rewarded with a small smile for her efforts, but Artie seemed oblivious to them.

 

"Do you realise how much there is to go over? The things that will be affected? If we don't start now-"

 

"Quite understandable." Helena cut in, walking away from the window and towards the rest of them. "I agree. There's much to discuss and we shouldn't put off doing so any longer than is necessary." Myka broke their eye contact with a nod and a small smile of acceptance, only just hearing the clap of Artie's hands as he muttered to himself.

 

A half hour later, he had unearthed a whiteboard from the back room and proceeded to scrawl various names of people and places across the surface of it. They were all connected by lines and dates and every subsequent word made Myka inwardly twitch. But she pushed the nerves away. If Helena said she was okay with this then Myka would have to trust in that. It wasn't her place to be uncomfortable and she would just have to bite her tongue and stay quiet.

 

“As you can see,” Artie began, pulling out a thin metal rod from inside his jacket, elongating one end and slapping it against the board. "H.G. Wells has had quite an impact over the years, both in and outside of the Warehouse. For example," he shifted his hand and snapped the tip of the rod to lie between the words 'Joshua's Trumpet'. A stream of light erupted from the board and fanned out into a kind of holographic screen.

 

"Holy Star Trek, Batman!" Pete exclaimed, displaying a wide-eyed excitement that was mirrored - though to a lesser extent - on the faces of the three women around him. The screen showed the detail card for the artifact in question alongside an aerial view of Allegheny Field.

 

"How marvellous." H.G.'s wonder was quiet, awed, and it pulled Myka's attention towards her. Reminded her of simpler times.

 

“H.G. launched her rocket in eighteen-ninety-three. In nineteen-sixty-two it landed in Greenbury, Ohio and sadly claimed the life of Daniel Varley's father." Artie went on, ignoring Pete's outburst.

 

"All things we remember, Artie." Myka cut in before he could continue, both looking and sounding a little edgy. She was once again rewarded with a small smile from H.G. and then a quiet but understanding, "Right. Yes." from their mentor.

 

"Without H.G.'s assistance, we would never have been able to intervene and save those people at the game that night. Should you be successful," finally he turned to Helena directly, "we'll never be afforded that chance." The inventor gave a slow and thoughtful nod as she thumbed the ring on her left hand, visibly mulling the question over.

 

"When I started designing it, I was at a point in my life where... Where I longed for some kind of escape. The Warehouse had been one for many years, but after Christina..." At the mention of the girl's name, Myka's entire posture shifted. She looked sad and tense, perched on the edge of her seat, bright eyes wide. "Nothing seemed enough. And yet it was all too much. My rocket was birthed directly from a desire to be somewhere else, away from the reminders of what I had lost. I had fully intended to use it once I had perfectly it, regardless of how reckless I knew such an act would be. I think I no longer cared about my own well-being. I was singularly focused.” Myka's chest felt tight, constricted, but it was Helena who cleared her throat. “However, should I succeed, should I save my daughter, then the need to escape will never arise to consume me. I'll never have a reason to build it. I'll have no desire to be anywhere but by Christina's side." The office grew silent then as they each processed Helena's words.

 

“Can you be sure of that?” Artie, ever the pessimist. Helena glanced at him from beneath her lashes and spoke in a tone that there could be no arguing against.

 

“Quite sure.” She sounded grave, deadly even, and a chill ran through the room in the hush that followed.

 

“Well!” Pete clapped his hands and rubbed them together, using his overly dramatic enthusiasm in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “That's one problem down! Go team thirteen!” He raised his hand for a high five which nobody met. “Only...” his eyes scanned the board and his enthusiasm faded, arm dropping to his side. “Eleventy-hundred more to go.”

 

“Dude, that isn't even the biggest one.” Pete turned to Claudia. “Sykes? The Warehouse, you know, blowing up? What happens when H.G. isn't around to save you guys?” She gestured to the three of them. “Or isn't there to bump brain cells with Myka and figure out Gandhi's Dhoti? And which one of those will happen anyway?” She groaned and threw herself back in her seat hard enough to send it rolling into the desk. “Sometimes I hate time travel.”

 

“If Artie already changed this reality, won't that have just,” Myka waved her hand in a way that conveyed very little, “wiped the other out?” She glanced to Pete who was thoughtfully stroking his chin.

 

“But if H.G. is going back to a point where Artie hasn't used the astrolabe yet, then everything could be different. We could wake up in a world filled with time machines or, oh!” His head snapped in H.G.'s directions. “Ray guns?” Helena rolled her eyes and pointed to the Tesla lying on its side next to the computer. Pete deflated. “Oh yeah. Whatever. It's reset Artie's reset.” He glanced towards the older man. “Right?”

 

“I don't know!” Artie barked, likely annoyed that he didn't have all the answers. “All we have to work with are theoretical assumptions.”

 

“That isn't **all** we have to work with.” Myka hedged after a brief silence. Artie's eyebrows twitched and at her prolonged pause the older man violently motioned with his hand for her to hurry up and get to the point. “If we send her back with enough time before...” she stumbled then, green eyes darting to deep brown and then away, “maybe there's a way she can make sure those things go the way we need them to.” Artie's eyes narrowed behind his glasses but he let out a hum that actually sounded positive.

 

“There **is** a possibility that could work.” He sighed, all the nervous and uncertain energy seeming to just drain out of him. “But there are still too many variables.”

 

“You seem to be forgetting that if I’m no longer present in this century, then Walter Sykes will have no one to defeat the chess lock.” Helena pointed out and Artie visibly brightened at that.

 

“That's right! Without you, or um,” he cleared his throat, “Emily Lake, he'll never gain access to the Warehouse.”

 

“No Warehouse means no bracelet means we stay safe and uncrispy!” Pete punched the air triumphantly but the rest of them only offered tentative smiles.

 

Things so precariously put together often fell apart. And Arthur Neilsen was always first to point that out.

 

“Even **if** we manage to somehow figure out the time line, we still have to work out what kind of problems the crack in the dial might cause.”

 

“Crack?” Myka stiffened at the confusion in Helena's voice and her eyes drifted closed for one guilty moment. “What crack?” When she opened them again Helena was looking at her strangely. Surprised or confused, perhaps a little hurt.

 

“Didn't Myka tell you?” Artie, unable to see an elephant in a room, looked just as puzzled by the revelation as H.G. had sounded. And then all eyes were on Myka. 

 

“I, um. I didn't-” Another blaring alarm bell cut her off and Claudia spun back to face the computer screen.

 

“Crap.” She muttered and Artie was instantly at her side, hovering over her shoulder.

 

“What? What did you do?” He griped, reaching for the keyboard only to have his hand swatted away.

 

“Don't touch things you don't understand, old man.” He grumbled but grudgingly backed away. “It's the gooery again.”

 

“That's it!” He threw his hands up. “I want all of you down there to fix that thing. We don't have time for distractions.” When no one moved he pointed toward the balcony door and raised his voice. “Now!” They moved as one after that, slow enough to catch his “And take your jackets!” as he ascended the stairs to his room once more.

 

* * *

 

Myka watched as Pete and Claudia gradually strolled further and further ahead of H.G. and herself, chatting animatedly about some kind of new and improved Tesla gun the redhead had been working on. She smiled; they really were her family. She never would have thought it possible back when she'd been climbing a mountain of manure, desperately trying to find a cell phone signal. She barely even used her cellphone now, steadily replaced by the Farnsworth. The same could be said for the people in her life. Before there had been familiar faces, names easily recalled but never really thought about. She worked peacefully alongside most of them and tried not to let the others get under her skin. She went home every night, alone, and put it all out of her mind. It was stark and regimented.

 

Now there were faces that showed up in her dreams and laughter accompanying her along the hallways, and the people surrounding her now were never far from her thoughts. They were family in a way that even her own blood had never been.

 

And then there was the woman beside her.

 

An impossibility made real.

 

Someone so close and yet so far and there was no way to understand it. But Myka didn't need to understand it.

 

It simply was.

 

In Helena's presence she felt something so indescribably different that she found it hard to reconcile her feelings now.

 

Guilt and happiness swam together like water and oil, trying to meld and failing. She waited for Helena to ask, waited for her to demand answers and call her a liar. And even as she waited, she was happy. Unable to be anything but with the woman once more present.

 

“I was right.” Myka's body flinched at the statement; she'd grown used to the silence at her side during their walk. She tilted her head towards H.G. and creased her forehead into a frown.

 

“About what?” Myka dodged a still sealed crate sitting off to the side of the aisle and brushed Helena's arm as the inventor lifted it to gesture to the agents up ahead.

 

“Claudia. Her future.” There was a clearing in Myka's mind and a blue sky above her head, and a pressure swelled inside her chest at the memory. “Glorious. Like the woman herself.”

 

“You **were** wrong about one thing though.” Myka's voice was heavy with something and the words felt thick as they left her. Helena arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “You **are** here to see it.” H.G.'s smile was brief but undoubtedly present, and it left Myka to wonder what she had thought in that instant as they continued on down through the aisles. 

 

“I missed a great deal of her journey here though.” Helena admitted with a heartfelt sigh and she trained her gaze ahead, hands in the pockets of her jacket. Myka wasn't sure what to say, what there was left to say about that, and that gnawed at her. “You were right too, you know.” Helena's confession came as little more than a whisper. “About Nate, Adelaide, what I was doing with them. Everything.” Myka opened her mouth to speak, the regret over having caused H.G. pain that day outweighing the happiness she felt having the woman back.

 

If only, possibly, for a short amount of time.

 

“Helena, I-” Slender fingers held palm out forced Myka to stop and they themselves stalled at a junction between rows. Myka's face bore all the signs of remorse, her bright eyes wide with it and features withdrawn somehow. Darker. In her periphery she watched Helena's hands drift up towards her and then fall back to her sides.

 

“Please don't apologise. You were right.” She said again, a sad smile turning her face into a mask of resigned acceptance. “Everything you said that day was the truth. I was too blind and too stubborn to accept it.” She reached for Myka's hand again, this time grasping it between both her own. “Thank you for making me see that. For knowing me,” and Helena's smile, now so sincere it could be felt, stole Myka's breath, “better than anyone else.”

 

Contact between them, physical contact, was a rarity. Unless Myka was being pulled toward the sky or they were being tesla'd, there was never really reason to. And Myka didn't think about it, not really. She had hugged the other woman a total of one time, a goodbye. A last and strangely desperate need to feel close to a person who had come to mean so much before she had to leave her. And now she was back, thanking Myka for saying things that Myka had tried to convince herself hadn't been right. Hadn't been true. And Myka was going to do everything in her power to make sure that Helena left again. This time, for good.

 

The urge to pull her in for a second hug was almost overwhelming.

 

Because what could she possibly say to that? 'You're welcome' seemed fake and 'it was nothing' was a blatant lie. It was always  **something** when it came to the two of them and the magnitude of it often left Myka reeling. Never prepared, despite knowing it was there. Charged, and so close, but just shy of igniting 

 

And so Myka said nothing, did nothing but hold onto the moment just a little while longer until Helena released her hand and they resumed their walk.

 

“What Artie said,” Myka began after a few heartbeats, worry evident in her voice, “about the dial. I’m so sorry I didn't tell you sooner.” Helena hummed, a non-response. “I thought I’d have more time to explain. To figure out how to tell you.”

 

“I am to assume it isn't good news then?” There was an air of defeat to her voice, as though she'd expected this. Myka glanced sidelong at the woman, caught her eye, and shook her head. Helena sighed and let her gaze fall.

 

“But we're not sure what it means. We can't know until we **know** and we might only get one shot at this. We can't afford to test it.”

 

“Quite right.” Helena agreed, lips curving upward at their corners. “I suppose I’ll be blindly thrust into the unknown once more.” She turned the smile towards Myka. “I should be rather good at that by now.” Myka returned the smile but didn't really feel it. She had never been very good with variables and estimates. She needed facts and truths and certainties.

 

And when it came to H.G. Wells, Myka needed to be sure.

 

She usually was.

 

“It looks like an iceberg exploded in here!” Pete's yell greeted them as they entered the gooery. He wasn't wrong. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was covered in a thin layer of misty purple frost and icicles had started to form on some of the mechanisms. “What the heck is going on?” He looked to Claudia for an answer but she only gave a half-shrug in response, breaking a thin shaft of ice from one of the railings. He turned to Myka.

 

“Okay,” she sighed, rubbing at her forehead as she stared at the mess in front of her and marvelled at how it was kind of one big metaphor for everything in her life right now. “One thing at a time.”

 


End file.
